World of Wild Roses
by Chaotic Blades
Summary: Once upon a time, in a cursed tower of roses... you know how the story goes. Fairytale AU, no  official  pairings.
1. Curse

Once upon a time, on a world floating sheltered on a sea of chaos, there was a prince by the name of Firion. His parents, the rulers of Lighthaven in the Cosmic Plains, raised him with every advantage possible. With their love he grew in to a compassionate and just ruler. But such rulers are not without enemies and it just so happened that Mateus, the court sorcerer, became the villain of this tale.

He paid a visit to the fierce-eyed spirit of Mt. Auron and appealed to it to lay a curse on the lad. He persuaded it that Firion would lead his land into the chaos beyond, citing the betrayal of his brother as but one instance of his blunders. The spirit agreed and cursed the young prince; one day he would prick his finger on a rose thorn and waste away until there was naught left but dust. Mateus was pleased with this and proceeded to act shocked the following morning when he sensed it upon him.

He suggested to the prince that he go somewhere that roses could never reach him. Firion agreed and let Mateus handle the details, trusting the man who had already warned him of his horrible fate. The prince was brought across the land in his sleep and placed in a tower between the Enchanted Hills and Mirage Marsh. When he awoke, his only escape was through a window in a tower now overgrown with roses. He didn't dare try to descend, especially after rescue attempts proved that these roses had absorbed some of the curse. Too late he realized that he had been quite safely taken care of by his treacherous sorcerer. There was nothing left for him to do but train and eat food brought by sympathetic sprites. Soon years had passed and he was celebrating his twenty-second birthday.

It just so happened that a humble thief was on the run. Zidane Tribal had been chased out of Hide-Me-Away Cave in the Brigands' Desert just east of there and was still being pursued now. The crafty teen had swindled his assigned team, stealing the loot the brigands' had had their eyes on for a long time. He was a genome, a race from across the Odyssey Sea that possessed high agility and tails. It was this same agility that propelled him from across the Wild Rose River, his pursuers left shaking their fists from the other side.

He chuckled as he settled down to admire the crystals he'd stolen. A glorious sunrise illuminated them, in the process placing a reflection on their surface. He turned and indeed, a tower loomed there in the distance. An avaricious curiosity welled up inside him, urging him onwards towards possibly abandoned treasure. Yes, he decided, the tower _had_ to be abandoned, overgrown as it was with flora.

By the time the sun reached its climax, he was thigh-deep in heavily thorned roses. For any other the way would have long since been impassable but to Zidane, agile beyond even a genome's imagining, barely even thought about it as he made his way through his twisted path. When he reached the tower he found himself grinning at the ease he would have breaking in. In a feat only he could pull off he climbed the tower without once even being touched by a thorn.

Finally he threw himself inside, laughing wildly at his easy entry. Laughter that soon halted when his face met the wall. A body pressed him viciously into it.

_Whoever this is, they have the advantage of mass over me. Please be just a really bulky damsel in distress. _Deciding it best to talk his way out, he began, "Hey there, no need to-"

"Who are you?" demanded a coarse voice at his ear. He was shoved ever more harshly into the hard stone.

He laughed nervously. "Who, me? No one, I just… happened to be walking by-" The mystery person displayed their disbelief by smashing him once more, the force of which dislodged the crystals from their hiding place with a tell-tale clunk. "Uh, heheh, I always carry my, um, family heirlooms with me on walks. Wouldn't want anyone to steal them while I was out?" he suggested in what definitely wasn't a squeak.

"Those crystals… my mother lost them to brigands years ago!"

He gulped. _Think fast, think fast! As soon as the shock wears off they'll toss me out the window!_ "S-seriously? Wow, I had no idea… I'll just be leaving then… you know, to return them…," he said as he inched towards the window. His escape was not to be, however, for the person behind him spun him around, this time his back hitting the wall. For the first time he got a look at his captor. And what a captor it was.

_So much for it being a deep-voiced girl._ The man in front of him had the look of Cosmic royalty. He wore princely white garb and opalescent jewelry, all to go with the royal silver hair shared by all sons of Cosmos. Zidane thought as hard as he could, searching his memory for any reason a Cosmosian royal would be on this side of the Brigands' Desert. Something rang a soft note in his mind, but the heavy scent of roses was too distracting to concentrate. Roses. A Cosmosian.

Roses.

Roses!

"_Prince Firion?"_ He gaped at the other, forgetting even his current situation in the face of this absurdity.

_Placed in a tower after the curse… trapped by cursed roses… reminds me of that game some kids made up._ The game in question required a ring of children with linked hands around one child in the center, other children outside optional. The children would move any way possible to prevent the one within or others without from getting past them. They had until the end of the rhyme to get "Prince Firion" out of the roses.

_In a den of roses_

_Where no one ever goes-es_

_Prince Firion_

_Needs cheery-in'_

_As he uneasily dozes_

_A curse has been made_

_A flower bed been laid_

_Cursed touch_

_Hurts you much_

_Don't get caught in the raid!_

"So I haven't been forgotten…," he said in a hushed tone. He released Zidane's shoulders and looked away.

"Why would you be?" he asked, "You're still ruler, even if you need a middle-man."

"So that's how he- listen, thief-" He cut him off with an extended hand.

"I'm Zidane." An easy smile helped loosen the prince up and he returned it and a hand.

"Zidane," he agreed, shaking, "This is the first time I've had human contact in five years."

Despite not being a Cosmosian himself, a chill crawled its way over a tensed spine. "Wait, but Lighthaven… Regent Mateus gives reports of your every order! Don't tell me…."

He nodded and dropped his visitor's hand. "Mateus was the one responsible the whole time!" he responded heatedly, "It was all just a bid for power, and I was fooled!" A fist was slammed into the wall above Zidane's head in a burst of anger. He let out a breath of air and calmed himself. "So I guess no one suspects a thing, huh?" he chuckled weakly.

"I'm not a Cosmosian, but your absence seems to be an accepted fact," replied Zidane, thinking of the Wild Rose game.

"I see…." The prince's eyes became downcast. He straightened up and glanced not quite subtly enough out the window.

_Talk about drama! Still, I can't help but feel bad for the guy. Even if he escaped now, where would he have to go?_ Out loud he said, "Hey, don't look so blue! I managed to get in so I could probably get us both out safely! Then you can take back your kingdom or whatever. Come on, what do you say?" He put on his best smile and extended his hand again, silently offering friendship if it would be had.

"You're right!" he exclaimed, eyes widening, "But what next? I don't want my people to suffer but I don't think I can take Mateus on by myself."

"Good point. The minute you walked into Lighthaven it would all be over." He thought about it for a moment. "Maybe if you had an army… not to fight, just to look impressive," he hastily added to wipe away the look of horror.

"Maybe so. But where would I get it? It'd have to be made of non-Cosmosians. What reason would they have for following me?" Five years in a tower didn't seem to have worked wonders for his faith.

Fortunately, the other had a ready answer. "Well, if you don't mind associating with criminals like me, you could try convincing the Brigand King, to go with you and just flex his muscles at Mr. I'm-so-not-a-despot. I should warn you though, they won't be too happy to see me." It didn't seem like he could get away with the simple version of events. "I… kinda stole the crystals and booked it out of there." Oh no, he didn't see that exasperated look at all. Nope, nope, there was no way he'd acknowledge that kind of attitude from the damsel in distress. Even if the damsel _was_ a male capable of lifting him with one hand.

_He looks kind of like a damsel,_ he thought critically, eying the somewhat protrusive hips, _Just make him a little shorter… and longer hair…_

"… and a nice dress would add the final touch," he mused, only noticing he'd spoken aloud when Firion looked at him strangely. "Uh… heheh… anyway!" He hurriedly changed the subject, "I'll do what I can, but he's really into fighting. He might just punch us both out just for the hell of it."

"But we have to try. _I_ have to try, for the sake of my dream!" exclaimed the suddenly exuberant prince. Passion blazed in his eyes and clenched fist.

"Your… dream?"

"Yes. As you probably know, roses grow wild throughout the Cosmic Plains, especially in Lighthaven. I want to be able to return to that world of roses… even if it's the last time I can." His gaze drifted out the window again, rosy dreams reflected clearly in his eyes.

_Aaaannd we lost him. Man, he's no helpless princess but he might as well be a hopeless one!_ Shrugging to himself he idly swung one of his daggers at the nearest rose, only to find its stem hard enough to leave a nick in the blade. _Well, that explains why no one could rescue him._ Left with no other option he painstakingly picked the plants apart. Having already cleared a path to the tower, he focused on creating a way down, then swung up from the base and whistled for attention.

"So, ready to go, your highness?" he smirked. A beat, then the other realized what had been done. With an answering grin he climbed onto the waiting back and they were off.

There were a few close calls as they shot to freedom, Zidane being incapable of going slow, but neither so much as snagged their clothes. Finally they lay exhausted from the excitement in the Enchanted Hills. Firion couldn't help but laugh in joy and look all around himself. Freedom, at last!

"So, where next?" he panted, once more all fired up.

"Excited to be out?" his companion laughed, "Don't forget, I just finished getting away from our destination, I'll need to catch my breath before we go chasing _that_ trouble."

"Oh, sorry," he apologized, "Uh, do you mind if I…?"

"Stretch your legs? Go ahead. Just watch out for roses, okay? I swear, those things are everywhere," he warned, curling up to take a nap. Firion watched with a smile as the tail curled around the genome's body like a cat. A quiet snore showed that he fell asleep as quickly as one as well.

He laughed softly to himself and padded off to taste his newly regained freedom. The ever-midday sky of the Enchanted Hills stretched on for a great distance, the northernmost range of the Deathly Mountains barely visible on the horizon. Looking behind him he saw the glimmering mist that rose from Mirage Marsh. He breathed deeply; there was quite a difference from the sickeningly sweet and stuffy tower air. In fact, a milder form of the scent came drifting to his nose. Looking down revealed a single red rose.

He knelt beside it and gazed into its rich petals. Already he could feel the curse's influence pushing him to reach out a hand and grasp its thorny spine. However, after his experience in the tower, the urge was easy to crush.

"So, you like roses?" asked an unfamiliar voice from behind him. He turned to see what could only be described as a leering ragamuffin of a man. His clothes could barely even be referred to as such, patched and stitched all over and yet stilling falling apart at the countless seams. But it was to his sword that Firion's eyes were drawn. Even with it in such bad shape, caked in blood; dirt; and clinging rags, he could recognize his old sword, _Dream of Rose._ What was this man doing with it?

"A better question would be how you got that sword," he retorted hotly, throwing subtly to the wind as was his wont. He moved aggressively forward. The man clutched it to his chest.

"Wh-what kinda question is that? I got this sword fair and square!" That was not the answer Firion wanted to hear. He strode over and grasped the man by the neck of his ruined shirt, lifting him so that they were eye to eye. His dangling feet kicked at his captor to no avail.

"Where did you get my _Dream of Rose_?" he demanded, using his Angry Monarch voice.

"What of- what kind of gay-" A shake shut him up. "Okay, fine! I found it in the Wild Rose River, honest! I didn't know it was yours, take it, just let me go!" He shoved the blade at him and, upon being dropped in surprise, scuttled off back the way he came. "I'll get you for this, you rosy fairy!" were his parting words.

Firion blinked in confusion at the strange encounter, then turned his attention to his sword. _Even if he did find it in a river, the least he could've done is clean it!_ he huffed, settling down to scrape off as much gunk as he could. It was doing this task that Zidane found him some time later.

He alerted Firion to his presence with a low whistle. "That's some sword. Pretty dirty though. Did you find it buried somewhere?" he asked, obviously impressed with the stylized blade.

The one addressed held up the, for the most part, now clean weapon. It was made of a strange red metal all the way through, one that didn't seem to heat up past room temperature. He answered dreamily, "This was mine, back at Lighthaven. Mateus must've thrown it out. I got it off this vagabond who showed up while you were asleep."

"Vagabond? Who would- oh great," the other groaned, "Kind of short? Could make ten sets of clothes out of all the cloth that holds his current one together?"

"Do you know him?" He looked up from a particularly irritating blood splotch to see an expression of long suffering.

"Yeah, we're both brigands from the group that lives in Hide-Me-Away Cave. Now the Brigand King will know we're coming." He muttered his annoyance under his breath.

"Wait, we were going to Hide-Me-Away Cave this whole time? Isn't that the biggest gathering of criminals on this continent?" He found himself questioning his new friend's idea more and more with each additional detail.

"Nah, we're not all that bad," replied Zidane, a grin returning to his face, "Sure, we've got the largest numbers but the quality leaves something to be desired. The ones you really need to look out for, the elite few, live in the Cave of Thieves down in the Deathly Mountains. See, there's this hierarchy of criminals that most people don't know exists." He drew a diagram on the ground as he spoke. "Everyday criminals are the lowest of the low. Ones who show talent, like me, are invited to take refuge in Hide-Me-Away Cave. From there you can challenge the Brigand King and become top dog. But here's where it stops being so cut and dry. The other group from the Deathly Mountains kidnaps those of us from the Brigands' Desert who are seen as the most powerful. These people are then put to a test and the survivors join them. Everyone in that group wields more power than the Brigand King. They have the same process for choosing their leader, the Thief King, though." Having finished his explanation he stopped to breathe.

"Okay, I understand now. It shouldn't be too hard then?" he asked hopefully.

"It mostly depends on the Brigand King's mood. If worst comes to worst… well… better finish cleaning that sword of yours." He looked at it doubtfully. "You sure that will survive a fight? Looks kind of narrow. And a bit fragile."

"Don't worry," Firion reassured him, the mood from the tower visibly falling over him, "Dreams may look fragile but they're the most powerful force in the world!"

"Dreams- fragile- what are you talking about?"

"My sword!" he continued as if never interrupted, "My _Dream of Rose_. It represents my dreams… my honor… my-"

"_Dream of Rose_? That's the gayest-" Zidane broke off at the fierce glare he received. "Um, _nicest_ name I've ever heard for a sword. Very… inspirational?" He half-listened in bemusement as the idealistic prince jabbered on excitedly about dreams and hope. After a few minutes and several failed interjections later he settled for steering Firion in the right direction and marched them as fast as possible. Eventually his talkative companion ran out of things to say and they stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the "day".

The next "day" they tackled the Wild Rose River, so named for the sharply jutting rocks and strange, rose-like flowers that grew like lilies across the surface. At first Firion balked but some cajoling from Zidane got him on his back. Soon they were bouncing from rock to rock across. Now there was only the Candlelight Plains between them and the desert in which their destination lay.

Firion, having never been there before, gazed in wonder at the orbs of light bobbing cheerfully through the air. "What are they?" he asked his so far knowledgeable companion.

"No one's really sure," he replied with a shrug, "People mostly just make things up. Some think they're souls of the dead escaped from the lands beyond and others think these plains are where dreams come from. I like to think they're spirits of inspiration myself."

"Where dreams come from…," he echoed, cupping one orb in his hands. It seemed to pulse in time with his heart. "I like that idea. Speaking of dreams, what are yours?" At his look he continued, "You said before that you stole the crystals and left, but why? What were you hoping to gain?"

The genome shrugged as if he didn't know, but his face told a different story. In a moment though his face was back to its normal cheer and the prince had to wonder if he had read too much into it. Indeed, the rest of the day was passed with idle banter and childhood stories. But the topic of dreams didn't come up again. He found himself thinking about it that night as he watched the bobbing orbs, unable to fall asleep.

Midway through the morning on the next day found them in the desert. Not even bothering with stealth, Zidane marched -or rather, swaggered- right along a shortcut that only brigands knew. Without it they might've wandered for weeks on end.

When they reached the infamous Hide-Me-Away Cave, Firion found himself… underwhelmed. It didn't look much different from any other cave they'd seen; just the same bulbous rock formation, almost like a sphere of grapes. Without so much as a pause his guide continued in and he was forced to follow.

"It seems so… quiet," he whispered, wincing when it was magnified to a shout.

"The boss probably ordered everyone to let us pass. Hey, if it gets us in, I'm not gonna question it." He stopped in front of a door with a stylized "J" painted across it. "Well… here we are. If you want to go back, this is your only chance."

As an answer Firion strode past, swinging the door open with as much confidence as he could muster. Lounging before him on a throne hewn from the back wall was a half-naked man with the same "J" emblazoned on his chest. The man let out a great laugh and pushed himself to his feet.

"You've got guts. I like that," he stated bluntly. Beside him Zidane relaxed. He took it as a sign that the Brigand King wasn't going to start busting heads anytime soon.

"Brigand King!" Firion cried, automatically shifting into his court voice, "I am Prince Firion, son of the deceased Queen Cosmos and Lord Chaos, ruler of Lighthaven. I have come seeking your aid to take back my kingdom from the treacherous sorcerer Mateus, whom locked my person away until one of your men saved me."

"So that's how the little thief fits into this," the king said as he glanced at Zidane, "I bet he told you I would help."

"He did suggest something along those lines," he admitted. The king grunted in response and cracked his neck.

"I knew it," he muttered, "Listen here, prince! Hide-Me-Away Cave exists so that those of us cast out from society can live without ever having to deal with it again. I refuse to be the guy who changes that, even if it does sound like a fun little scrap. You can run along somewhere else for your disposable army. And as for you," he addressed towards a wincing Zidane, "You and I are gonna have ourselves a little chat." Everything about the man screamed 'threat'. His target, who had mostly had unending cheer and courage to this point, looked as if he didn't dare flee again.

"Sorry for dragging you into this for nothing," he muttered to Firion, moving in front of him, "You'd better go; this is going to get ugly." He bravely pulled out his daggers but a certain shake could be seen about them.

"Wait, what will happen to you?" He glanced between the two brigands; both were readying for battle.

"Well, I'll be punished as a traitor but they should let you go safely." The thief tried for a laugh. It got caught in his throat.

Firion stared at his rescuer in growing anger. Run away, after all he owed him? Ignoring his protests, he stomped around him until they were facing. For a moment each just stared, the genome trying to figure out what the other was thinking. His question was quickly answered when the one in front of him pushed him, sending him to his knees. A most alarming and wrathful expression was present on the prince's face as he drew his sword. He raised it to strike-

-and lay the tip flat on Zidane's right shoulder.

"I, Prince Firion, as a son of Cosmos ask the gods-" The blade was moved to the other shoulder- "-that they bless this chosen champion-" –and moved back- "-so that he might become my Knight Protector-" –to finally be placed on his head- "-and be a radiant Warrior of the Cosmos!" –and placed back in its sheath. "Do you accept this task, Zidane the Brigand?"

His mouth dried in shock. Even in the land of the genomes many a story was known of the sacred warriors of the sons of Cosmos. If not for the absolutely serious look on the other's face he would've laughed the whole speech off as a joke.But sure enough, he could feel the white-hot power of Cosmosian magic burning around him as fiercely as Firion's –no, the Prince's- eyes.

"I- I do," he agreed. Instantly he felt the power of light well up inside him. A new strength flowed into his limbs that seemed to rise on their own. As he looked around, everything could be seen differently than before. Firion appeared to have a thorny black vine wrapped around his body. And the boss whose wrath he'd feared, while strong, had blaring weaknesses as clear as if someone had painted a bull's eye over him. For the first time since he'd joined the group at the cave he felt confident that he could take on the man.

"I'll leave everything up to you then." The prince, his task done, moved as far away as possible without leaving the room; he'd seen the battles of his cousin and guardian as Warriors of the Cosmos. Namely the destruction they caused. To his surprise, however, the Brigand King not only didn't seem disturbed, he looked ecstatic at the new challenge. He even lugged out a massive sword.

"Ha, this just got interesting!" he cheered, cracking his knuckles.

"It's about to become more than interesting!" Zidane shot back as he shot forward.

Already fast and agile, his tempo increased to the point that to an observer his movements were but blurs and his daggers left afterimages in the air. To his former boss's credit, he managed to avoid or shrug off every blow. Sure enough, his counterattack was a medley of slashes and kicks when Zidane least expected it. His strength was easily enough to send the smaller opponent crashing into the ceiling. This was a mistake.

He grasped a stalactite with his tail and used it as leverage to send himself rocketing towards his opponent. The man just barely managed to bring his sword in time to block the strike, and was unable to do the same for the following storm of blows. Only his tough skin kept him from being overwhelmed.

Eventually he needed to pause to get his rhythm back, and that was when the man struck. He planted a firmly on the ground and punched with a force that sent his attacker flying once again. This time Zidane was ready though; he back flipped and skidded to halt, then leapt forward with blades a-swinging. He was blocked but he could tell that his attacks were taking their toll on his opponent.

The man knew this as well, moving back to smash off part of his throne with his sword. This he then threw with all his might at Zidane, who just barely dodged it. It was dashed into rubble upon meeting the floor, bits of shrapnel striking its intended target. He cried out in pain and clutched the leg where he'd been hit. This was the opening the Brigand King was waiting for. He rushed forward with his arm once more pulled back for a punch, this one to crush him into the floor. But he'd underestimated the thief, who did what he did best.

He dodged.

The king's punch landed its hits on the floor in what later generations would refer to as the King's Crater. Zidane swung himself over his shoulder and struck a blow to his head. Even with all his toughness he knew it was over, especially when he felt steel at his neck.

Firion was the first to break the still that had fallen over them. "So, does this mean that Zidane won't be punished for what he did?"

"Punished?" the man snorted, "Not unless he wants to be. I've been beaten, that makes him the new Brigand King."

"And as your knight I'm required to provide the aid you wanted, aren't I?" Zidane grinned impishly, tail swishing with energy. He let the man on the floor up and the three agreed to talk over the situation.

"Well, that _could_ work," the man, now introduced as Jecht, said doubtfully, "Except that in recent years a lot of the brigands have been leaving the cave for Lighthaven. If what you say is true, they've probably become Mateus' own personal army. Even if we did show up, he'll know our strengths and weaknesses. We'll hardly be impressing anybody."

"Well, there is one way," mentioned Zidane, "If we had some forces that they knew to fear…."

"You mean we should go to the Deathly Mountains?" asked Firion. An expression he couldn't identify crossed Jecht's face. "What's wrong?"

Before he could reply, Zidane cut in, "The elites kidnapped his son about two years ago." The father grabbed his shirt and used it to drag him halfway across the table they were sitting at.

"How do you know that? I didn't tell anyone!" he hissed.

"Tidus and I had plans that night, I was in the next room when it happened," he explained. Upon seeing Firion's confusion he suggested, "Why don't you tell the story? I only know the end." Jecht reluctantly agreed.

"Not long before they took him, I'd been kidnapped. They all thought I had more potential than they'd seen in years. But I was happy in Hide-Me-Away Cave. I refused them and made my way back. Was that ever a mistake," he grumbled, "They decided I was too strong to be left on my own and this time they came to me to talk. I refused them again and… they took him. To punish me and keep my hands tied," he snarled.

"That's why I knew I had to be the one to save him," Zidane continued, much to the others' surprise. "I thought if I did something big enough they'd come for me and then we could escape together. After two years of training, I made my move."

"And stole mother's crystals…," Firion murmured in awed realization.

"Yeah. Of course, I wasn't planning on rescuing a prince and helping him get his land back. Then again, the story does go that no one could reach you." A look of intense glee crossed his face. "Maybe that just makes me look even better!"

"So it's a twofold mission. We rescue Tidus and get the elites on our side." The prince pulled out a map. "So if this Cave of Thieves is in the Deathly Mountains, it'd make sense for it to be… here." He traced a circle around the heart of the mountains with his finger. "But that's in the lands beyond; the spirits who dwell there would never let living beings into that area. So… here?" The finger drifted east and landed in a thick patch of mountains due west of Soulhaven, a cozy little village nestled in Valley Sanctuary.

"So we go to them, huh?" Jecht cracked his neck. "I've been itching for a fight with them ever since they showed their ugly faces around here. So when do we leave?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd stay here. They might try to use Tidus against you if you come and we need someone taking care of preparations over here," Firion explained.

"We'll handle things with the elites," promised Zidane, "After saving the unsave-able Prince Firion it should be a cinch!"

Two weeks later, waist-deep in snow, he regretted saying those words. "G-g-genome's aren't m-meant for this weather," he moaned through chattering teeth, wrapping his tail as closely around him as he could.

"W-well it c-could be wors-s-se," Firion mumbled back, "Who knew roses g-grew in places like this?"

"We sh-should've found them b-by now!" he groaned, "Three d-d-days, nothing!" In frustration he charged forward-

-into a snowdrift.

"Zidane!" cried the other traveler, leaping forward to dig him out. He soon found him pawing at a rock.

"Hey, Firion, ch-check this out." He pushed away the last remnants of snow to reveal an imprint of a hand. Covering it with his own, they were forced to shield their eyes as light sprang up from the area. A rock wall about five feet away from them crumbled down and built itself into an arch. The path continued into a cave. A single glance shared between the two and then they were scrambling off, stumbling in their haste to get to what could only be their destination. The arch collapsed ominously behind them, leaving them in darkness.

"So now what?" panted Firion.

"Now you explain yourselves," boomed a deep voice. A soft glow sprang up from the walls, revealing them to be surrounded by hooded figures. In the lead was an armored man with long horizontal horns extending from his helmet.

"We've come to challenge the Thief King!" announced Zidane. Thankfully the chatter had left his voice.

"If you are he then prepare yourself. If not, lead us to him," Firion demanded, resting a hand on his pommel to demonstrate how serious he was. The man threw back his head and laughed.

"How bold the little rodents are! Very well, prepare yourselves as well as you can. No amount of effort on your part will prevent our leader from knocking you down!" With this grandiose speech he dramatically turned and, cape whirling behind him from the force of it, strode decisively off into a glittering passage.

Through tunnel after tunnel they went, being surprised anew by each glorious treasure they beheld. Finally they reached an ornate set of double doors, engraved in swirling gilded lines. Their guide pushed them open and swept through without a background glance. He walked to the center of a room full of pillars to help support the heavy ceiling. There he knelt and said, "Thief King, two travelers have come to challenge you!" in a mocking voice. The two stepped forward, straining to see their target around the armored man's large frame in vain. An evil laugh sounded in response, though its tone appeared fake and boyish.

Zidane's eyes widened. Forgetting decorum, he rushed past the kneeling man to get a full view of the one to be his opponent. "Tidus…," he breathed.

"Zidane?" The one identified as Tidus sounded pleasantly surprised. "Garland, I need to talk to these people alone. So… you can go away now," he suggested brightly. While he didn't argue, the subordinate's disapproval was felt.

Without him in the room, Firion could see the much talked-of Tidus. _He must take after his mother_, he thought, feeling that strange spark of familiarity one gets when they find something in common with a stranger. _Seems just as relaxed as his father though._

Indeed, after Garland left, Zidane saw his old friend return to himself. His posture loosened. A smile slid onto his face. Unshed tears of joy at their reunion welled in his eyes.

"What a sap," he laughed, the other viciously rubbing tears out of his eyes and protesting. They quickly sobered up though as he asked the question on the newcomers' minds. "So Tidus, if you're the Thief King then that means…."

"Well, when the old man didn't come after me, I decided to save myself," he replied seemingly lightly, but with an edge his honest face couldn't hide, "I had no reason to go back so I just stayed here living the life of a king, literally! I'm glad you came, these elites are all total stiffs!" He smiled and hopped down from what Firion recognized as his father's chair, mysteriously missing for years. "Now there's nothing I miss from my old life!"

"What about Jecht? He's been worried about you since you were taken away, and you won't even contact him?" protested his friend. The smile dissolved into what should've been a glower, though it more resembled a pout on the bright face.

"If he was so worried, then how come he never came for me?" He crossed his arms in a remarkably Jecht-like way.

"He couldn't, you don't under-" Tidus cut him off by turning and grasping a blue sword leaning against the chair.

"You came here to fight me, right?" he interrupted bitterly, "You're the one who doesn't understand at all! I never thought you'd be on _his_ side." Zidane looked like he was about to argue, but soon enough got into his battle stance. Even Firion could tell that Tidus just wasn't ready yet to listen. The prelude over, the main event began.

Neither one to wait around, they both charged at each other. Tidus struck first, a leaping dash that his nimble friend dodged. The genome's blades slashed in counterattack only to be blocked by a quick turn around. He danced backwards then jumped, flipping, into the air to attack from above. Tidus jumped out of the way but had no time for a strike of his own as Zidane kept slash after slash flowing. He wanted the other on the defensive. Having sparred many times before, each knew their best chance at keeping the others' advantages from being a factor.

This was not to last forever; the combo was cut short when Tidus rolled to the side and sprang up behind his opponent, sword in hand. It was only the other's speed that kept his back safe. He tried swinging a knife horizontally while the sword remained poised in follow-through but his move was expected; the follow-through continued into a momentum-gaining spin that not only dodged the knife but also allowed for another upward swing. This Zidane blocked with his left.

Their arms shook, and that was when their eyes met. Determined blue gazed into a mirror and for a moment, their struggle slowed. Years of friendship were remembered by the duo. But the sound of fighting had by this point drawn the elites and, new audience watching in criticism, they had to go on.

Tidus used his superior strength to forcibly break Zidane's guard. But there was an advantage to using two blades. By the time he could get his heavier weapon again heading at its target, said target had a different arm there to this time parry. The other arm stabbed towards the abdomen before it.

He all but fell over backwards avoiding the thrust and decided to go from there. He kicked out with both legs, sending Zidane flying and using the momentum to regain his footing. As for Zidane, he flipped himself upright and scrambled up a nearby pillar. Tidus knew he couldn't let him get into his element and dashed forward to hit him while he was within reach. Too late though; he bashed the pillar instead, shattering it. Zidane, meanwhile, had already pushed off and grasped another pillar. He leapt around the room this way, striking out with his blades whenever he came close to his opponent. It was in this way that Tidus' clothes got completely shredded.

He eventually wised up and stopped charging to each pillar. Instead, the next time Zidane came around, he was knocked out of the air in one bloody slash. He crumpled to the floor in a spreading pool of blood.

"Zidane!" yelled Tidus wildly, forgetting for a moment his ire. He slid to his friend's side and turned him to be facing upright. Where the wound was he placed his hands to stop the blood flow.

There was no wound.

"A Warrior of the Cosmos can't be hurt so easily," Firion clarified to alleviate their confusion.

"So then that means…," gasped Tidus. He threw himself backwards and got into a ready stance.

"This is about to end!" exclaimed Zidane, jumping to his feet and running full tilt to fulfill the promise of his words.

Shaken and confronted with an onslaught of twirling blades, Tidus' defense was easily broken. Back hitting the floor he resolved not to be surprised like that again. He started to return to his feet-

-and found steel at his throat. The two glared at each other for a moment. Then the laughter came.

"Okay, okay, you win!" He held up his hands in surrender and the other moved his dagger out of the way. "So I guess this makes you the Thief King now, huh?"

"Sorry to see it go?" The victor looked around at the stern-faced elites and couldn't understand how.

"Nah, it was kind of a pain anyway," he joked, "I'll just beat up my old man and become Brigand King."

"I don't think you'll be able to do that just yet," Zidane said with a smirk. The one he was teasing bristled.

"What do you know? I can totally beat him now! Just because I lost-"

"What Zidane mean," Firion cut in, glaring at the mischievous genome, "is that he already beat Jecht. He's now both the Brigand King _and_ the Thief King."

"Wha?"

"Tidus, meet Prince Firion, fresh from the den of roses where no one ever goes-es," he introduced with a dramatic sweep of his arm. The prince bowed to the slack-jawed youth, wondering at the strange introduction.

"Zidane was able to get in and out of my tower without getting scratched. He brought me to your father and we… worked out an arrangement." Before Tidus could inevitably lose his temper he added, "Jecht thought he was being blackmailed. He didn't want you to suffer if he tried anything."

"Y-yeah right," he scoffed shakily. Firion decided that they could solve it better on their own and left it at that. "So any reason a prince is visiting us criminal types?"

"'Regent Mateus' is more like 'Usurper Mateus', turns out," said Zidane, proceeding to sum up the whole situation.

"So I'll get the elites ready and you guys will head over to Lighthaven?" The two agreed and everything was set up. They decided to stop by Soulhaven to gear up so as not to drain the elites' resources, though Firion did snag a bow he remembered seeing his cousin use. Thus they set out for Valley Sanctuary, the only safe place to live in the Deathly Mountains.

This time their journey through the snow was much shorter. They made good time to the sleepy little village and Firion was able to sleep in a bed for the first time in five years. So eager was he to do so that he curled up immediately for a nap, leaving Zidane to gather supplies.

When he awoke, refreshed, night had fallen and his friend lay snoring away, somehow having managed to dangle himself upside-down in his sleep from the bedpost. He chuckled to himself as righted the other. A sharp growl from his stomach reminded him why he had awoken in the first place. Hoping to find somewhere with food, he turned to leave only to find it wasn't necessary. A tray with a salad and some bread was sitting on the table of their room. He chalked it up to his roommate being thoughtful and gratefully ate.

It was when he finished that he noticed an unopened letter in the form of a roll of parchment. Curious, he checked it to see that it was addressed to him. He eagerly lit the table's candle and opened it up.


	2. Lighthaven

Zidane awoke the next morning with a mighty stretch. That was when he noticed the first thing wrong. He distinctly remembered crashing on top of the cover but here he was, tucked in like a tyke. "You can be such a mother sometimes, Firion," he laughed. That was when he noticed the second thing wrong.

Usually when he said something of that nature, the man would go off in a tizzy.

Dead silence.

As he sat up he noticed the third thing wrong. His heart stopped.

There, on the floor, lay Firion, spread-eagled. He rushed over and picked him up, thinking that maybe he'd tripped and hit his head. But his worst fears were soon confirmed when a letter slipped from a limp hand.

And with it a rose.

"How could this… happen…?" he gasped. He took the time to arrange Firion on the bed, noting that his life seemed to be slowly draining. Wither away he would until the curse was fulfilled and he was dead. All he could think to do was read.

_My dear Lord Firion,_ the letter began,_ you wouldn't believe the joy I felt when I heard the news. It came from what appeared to be one of the brigands, but my spells proved his words true. How good it is to hear that you have escaped your fate!_

_Even after these five years I've remembered you. It always made me feel such sorrow to think of your plight; a fate worse than death, I believe they call it?_

_I think you'll find that your kingdom has done well in your absence. So well, in fact, that it might be disruptful if you were to return. You understand, don't you? I knew you would. Such a reasonable prince, always ready to do anything for his people. In fact, this portion of the people has one last thing he would ask of you._

_Please, accept this symbol of my congratulations at not having to die in that wretched tower. 'Long live' the prince._

It was left unsigned but he knew who was behind it. "Mateus," he spat.

_I've got to find some way to break the curse before it's too late!_ He frantically sifted through his memories of the story._ That slimeball pretending to detect the curse… who did he blame? This is beyond the magic of even a court sorcerer! …A spirit, that was it._ But spirits all dwelt in the lands beyond and allowed none with pumping blood to pass in.

_It couldn't' have been a spirit of the lands beyond, but only the truly wicked and those that died in a state of total hatred can resist its pull. So that leaves Mount Auron… and the Vortex. But even the spirits of the Vortex won't deal with mortals… so it has to be Mount Auron._ Located in southeast Lighthaven near the Odyssey Sea, it was an active volcano that many spirits gravitated towards.

He settled things with the inn and, Firion again on his back, set off out of the valley. He took the easy way out of the mountains that lead to Peneleville, the closest town to Mount Auron. Half of it lay in the final foothills of the mountains and the other half in the Fate Swamp that Mount Auron rested in. He paid the innkeeper to take care of Firion's body and continued along his way as fast as possible.

It was nearly to the summit when an apparition formed before him. It was a ghostly armored male with… a ram-horn helmet? At first he tried to ignore him, walking past, but a blood-curdling scream nearly sent him plummeting in shock. He turned to glare. The man, even with a helmet on, seemed to glare right back.

"What is your problem? I'm in a hurry," he snapped. The spirit's aura darkened in anger.

"Hatred is what drives me!" it declared loudly, drawing its blade and charging.

Zidane yelped and found himself whirling and springing to avoid the barrage of spirit energy. _I can't fight a spirit; my attacks will go right through it! What to do…._ He grinned as an idea came to him.

"Hey, you with the rusty armor! I'm a Warrior of the Cosmos! If you don't leave me alone, I'll use my light to banish you to the Vortex, where only the damned exist!"

That got the spirit's attention. It dashed off without even questioning whether a Warrior of the Cosmos could actually do that, to his great relief. Thus the strange encounter ended and he finished his climb. What he found at the top was a set of stairs leading in.

_The spirit I'm looking for would be in here, if anywhere,_ he thought, taking a moment to harden his determination._ I'll save you, Firion, you can count on that!_ And with that he began his descent.

The steps were short and steep, most half crumbled away. The slow pace he had to go for safety's sake chafed at him. Down, down, down he went though, until his foot hit a rock much larger than the steps. He made a few cautious steps forward until he lost his nerve, thick smoke having obscured his surroundings since about halfway through his climb.

"Spirit!" he called in what he hoped was an authoritative voice, "If the one who placed a curse on Prince Firion at Mateus' behest is here, I'd like to speak with them!"

From the roiling red smoke two pinpoints of luminous blue blazed forth. Zidane waited for it to speak for about a minute before proceeding with his request. "The prince is dying; you have to take back the curse!"

"Why would I take back a curse… that I myself placed?" it asked in a voice that could only be described as dead.

"Because you were fooled! Mateus pulled your strings, he only wants power! Whatever he promised you, you're not going to get!" he argued. A shift in temperature was his only warning before he found himself chained tight with spirit energy. The eyes flew forward until they were right in front of his own, glaring.

"What would you know?" it growled.

"Why do you even care what happens? Why not reverse your spell? What could you possibly get out of it?"_ I don't have much time for this; Firion could be dead right now! Dammit, if only I knew my time limit!" _It was then that he noticed what was happening.

The spirit was looking at him contemplatively, sizing him up. Finally it said, "You don't seem… like a bad person. If you knew… what evil he has done…." Here it stopped, though it sounded like it wanted to say more.

"Evil? Firion?" The image of Firion gushing starry-eyed over his beloved roses sprang to mind. It was so ludicrous he just barely choked back a laugh. "What kind of stories did Mateus tell you? Trust me, the evilest thing about him are his monologues on dreams! So, this 'evil' of yours…," he prompted. The spirit stayed silent, instead placing him down. Then, before his eyes, a blond young man slowly materialized. As with most spirits it was hard to determine his age, but he seemed to be in his teens.

"I… my name is… Cloud…," he whispered, "About seven years ago I left my home in Soulhaven… went to Port Balthier…." As he reminisced, his powers slipped and Zidane saw the same things he did. Felt what he had felt.

Cloud walked nervously to the wharf, eyes darting from side to side for potential thieves. He gripped his money pouch tightly just in case. It wasn't much, but it could get him to other lands and back, even if he had to sleep with the rats. Then, with more experience and exotic gifts in hand, he could be good enough for his sweetheart.

At the moment there was only one ship docked, the _One Winged Angel._ The figurehead was a long haired woman with a single wing coming out of her right shoulder. He gulped and approached what appeared to be the captain of the beautiful ship.

"Excuse me… sir…," he murmured, half-extending the pouch. The man turned and Cloud's breath caught in his throat. Obscured from behind, from the front scintillating spiders' weave locks cascaded down from a cap far too small to contain them. The light played across hair like flowing quicksilver and that was when he realized that he was addressing –and gaping at- a son of Cosmos.

He hastily made to withdraw but the prince caught his hand and brought him in closer. "You wish to take passage on my ship?" The voice, just as silken as his hair, seemed to caress his very soul.

"I- I'll find another one," he squeaked. His ears were met with a warm chuckle.

"Ah, but it would please me were you to join us." A smooth smile slid more beautifully than any he'd seen before.

"Uh, u-us?" he stuttered. He felt like curling up in a hole out of embarrassment. At the same time he couldn't help but want to stay.

"My brother and I are travelling to greet the rulers of other lands, now that he's taken Mother's place." For a moment a shadow seemed to fall across porcelain skin in sharp contrast to the sun prancing its golden way across his cheeks. For but a telling moment.

"I'm flattered you would even consider allowing me, your highness, b- but the space-" He cut himself off. He _knew_ he would humiliate himself if he went on.

"Surely I can fit someone as small as yourself…?"

"Cloud," he answered softly, breathlessly to the unasked question.

"_Cloud_." From the prince's mouth it sounded like the name of an angel.

"If you really want me along, I'll… I'll join you," he agreed dazedly. The rest of the day was a whirlwind, by the end of which he had gained free passage in exchange for giving his services whenever needed. And that was just what he did; when told to jump he asked 'how high'. If something needed to be done he was on it before anyone even had to give the order.

The voyage was a dream; no trouble, calm skies, a strong breeze in all the right directions. He didn't talk with the prince again –Sephiroth, his name was- but sometimes he'd watch him as he went about his day. The only mar on the journey was the arguments between the two princes that always left Sephiroth moody. It seemed that his brother, whom he had given up the throne to, wanted him to stay and share his duties with him. Cloud secretly despised him for it. Who was he to clip his brother's wings out of his own insecurity?

He approached Sephiroth about it once and was met with ice. For what remained of the trip the prince treated him with disdain, his brother all the while growing more and more in cockiness and cheer. It was then that disaster struck.

He'd been cleaning the figurehead when he heard the sailors' shouts. Scrambling back on deck, he saw the ship with its black flag fluttering. Pirates! Everyone was grabbing weapons and preparing to fight, as it was not too close to outrun. Cloud was about to join them when a hand yanked him backwards.

"Drop your weapons or blondie here gets it!" snarled a pirate, holding a scimitar to his throat. For a moment no one moved. Then Sephiroth, a long sword extended before him, rocketed forwards.

The pirate fulfilled his promise and slit Cloud's throat.

Sephiroth stabbed straight through the body being used as a shield and ripped open the pirate's stomach.

The last thing Cloud saw was that enchanting, sickening smile.

"When Mateus came to me… he told me about Sephiroth… how he became a pirate. Joined the group that attacked us. And the prince… did nothing. Let him just do as he pleased. Helped him even. He continues to do it even now!"

"But that's not true!" Zidane protested, "He upheld the law for as long as he was on the throne, and he's been trapped in a tower for the last five years!"

"Trapped? You mean…." He turned his head to the side in depressed realization.

"You were played, Cloud," he said softly. For a moment it seemed that the other would just fade away as spirits were wont to do. Then the stream of spirit energy lifted his feet off the floor. Out of the volcano they flew, soaring quickly through the sky and landing in Peneleville.

"I'll reverse the curse on one condition," stated Cloud after Zidane had led him to the room where Firion lay. "I'm going after Mateus too. I'm not just some… puppet that he can play around with." The thief of course had no objections and soon Firion's breath was as strong as ever. Lashes fluttering, he opened his eyes.

The Emperor, as Mateus liked to call himself, had known at once when the foolish prince had escaped his tower. Oh yes, the enchantment he was under was strong enough that it took minimal effort to track him. So when he made a beeline for the Deathly Mountains, it had seemed the perfect time to send out his little assassin. Yes, he knew what was going on all along. The dirty brigand he had sent off to the gallows had nothing to do with his revelation that the prince was not only alive, but free.

For the rest of the day he was in an excellent mood.

It only improved when his assassin sent a carrier pigeon to inform him that the curse had indeed been fulfilled. The boy's griping about being reduced to a mere letter-bearer topped off his day beautifully. Now all that was left was to instill himself officially in the role he'd been playing for years. He smiled as he ticked off names in his head, each a member of the family who were… _unavailable_ to take over.

_Sephiroth._ For someone framed as a traitor he certainly seemed to enjoy his role._ Light._ Disappeared years ago on a journey to reclaim memories he conveniently lost after his beloved sister's untimely death. _Ultimecia._ Still searching through time and space for her husband. _Golbez._ Off with his brother in their own search for their father. And then there was the disgraced daughter, mumbling about her dark magics in the most secure place in the world.

"Sir, it's time for your address," announced one of the 'loyal' knights of the crown. Very few hadn't switched their loyalties to him at first opportunity.

"Very well. Shall we be leaving then?"

"There is one other matter," he admitted.

"Oh?"

"Squall won't like this. He was much attached to Prince Firion, as you remember." He nodded impatiently, wishing the other to get to the point. "I've been hearing some worrisome things lately. He's been training day and night to break into the tower. Some of the others have caught him practicing his Cosmos Warrior powers. Sir, if he becomes too powerful…. He's been speaking against you since before Lady Cosmos died. If he decides to take you out, it won't matter if we throw the whole kingdom against him!"

"The very worst kind of foe," he mused. Finger tapping against his sorcerer's staff, he thought aloud, "After today he'll either choose to attack me or seek out the truth on his own. No matter what choice he makes he'll prove easy enough to take care of."

"If that is your view," the knight murmured, holding his tongue. For the first time he began to doubt his decision to join with the ambitious sorcerer. He just didn't understand the fierce loyalty and pride that drove Squall. The quiet understanding he'd shared with Cosmos. And most importantly, the bond between one of her sons and his first Warrior of the Cosmos.

Truly Mateus descended to the second floor balcony with no idea of the growing storm masked behind the indifferent-seeming face.

"Cosmosians, I'm afraid I must be the bearer of tragic news. Our dear Prince Firion, for whom we've all waited so long to see return, has met his end." A gasp arose from the crowd gathered below the balcony. They all began muttering amongst themselves, trying to sort out the shocking news. He waited for passions to rise and then continued, "As you all know, I used my magic to communicate with our beloved prince and bring him the essentials of survival. But this morning, as I created the link, I saw him give in to the urging of the curse and grasp a rose."

_Truly astonishing,_ he noted above the ensuing wail,_ It's been so long I doubt anyone even remembers his face. And yet they still throw such a fuss for him. I was right to get rid of him when I did._

"But we must be strong, for his sake, so he can wander the lands beyond in peace. He wouldn't wish for us to give in to despair. In the memory of our great prince I propose that we move past our grief! Yes, he was the last of the Cosmic royalty, but before you is one whom has learned the ways of state and is ready to serve. For the stability of our beautiful kingdom, please accept this unworthy replacement!"

Some of the crowd cheered, others muttered in suspicion, and one slipped away. Mateus noted the faces of those who disapproved but it was too late. Already the one he should have been worried about was on his way.

Squall urged the chocobo faster. Immediately after the sorcerer had placed himself in power, he'd crept into the stable and made off with the top-bred one of the lot. Fortunately for him, the stable master was off with the crowd and hadn't noticed the 'borrowing' of his prized chocobo. Now, two days later, the Cursed Tower of Roses was looming on the horizon.

_I have to see for myself whether that man was lying again. There's no way my prince is dead after all this!_ He mentally went over the powers granted to a Warrior of the Cosmos, disregarding each as useless as he had every other time. Determining weak points with a glance hardly helped when your opponents were roses. Boosts to strength, speed, and stamina also didn't help when there wasn't anyone to fight. Briefly he considered calling down the power of the stars to destroy the roses all at once… but every time they'd been destroyed they instantly regrew thicker and resistant to what had struck them. Besides, such a move was far too draining. It took at least one other Warrior to pull off a great many other attacks –especially useless since what few other Warriors there were had unknown locations. Their enhanced healing could possibly slow down the curse at most. And being able to detect harm would do nothing if he already knew it was there.

_It looks like it won't be that simple._ He frowned as he gazed up at the tower. In resignation he dismounted and began shifting the flowers aside with his gunblade. Using what small supply of rope as was in the saddle pack, he tied bunches behind him so that he could move forward without being scratched. He was able to jerk the rope free and reuse it until he reached the base of the tower.

"Firion!" he called up, to no response, "It's Squall! Say something if you can hear me!" Still nothing. Beginning to feel the edge of panic he slung the roped, weighted by the gunblade, into the window. Finding it to be secure, he began climbing, heedless of the thorns that caught and tore his flesh. They continued to bleed, the power that fueled rapid healing caught in an unwinnable battle against the roses' curse.

With each jerk of his arms he felt himself grow weaker. By the time he reached the top it seemed as if he would never move again. But he forced himself to slide in through the window and peer into his master's prison. Except… it was empty. In fact, the only sign it had ever been lived in was a set of the prince's old clothes in a dust-filled corner.

_Naught left but dust._

He felt it now: the icy cold rage coursing through him. _How long has he truly been dead, Mateus? _he spat in his mind. Suddenly the curse didn't matter anymore. Strength born of the desire for vengeance flowed into him and he knew what it was he must do.

_Firion may be gone, but there are others in his family who may still be alive, despite what that charlatan says. The least I can do is make things easier for when they return._ And with that he set his sights on Lighthaven and the downfall of Mateus.

"So remind me why we couldn't've just flown the rest of the way?" grumbled Zidane from his place by the window in the cramped inn room of Mooglesburg. Or rather, the spacious windowed closet that they had barely been able to afford. Outside the extravagant nightlife that the city was known for was already blazing, despite the faint rays of sun still present on the horizon.

"We spirits… there's not much we can do on our own. The mountain fuels our power… makes us stronger. The Lulu plains are flat; we actually cover more ground by walking." Cloud, who, being a spirit, shouldn't feel uncomfortable, nevertheless shifted on the tool crate that had been allotted as his.

"We have to wait for Tidus and Jecht anyway. Does it really matter if we move at a slower pace?" asked Firion. He was sitting cross-legged on a pile of empty burlap sacks.

"I guess you could say I feel uncomfortable being so close to the Vortex." He glanced out the window. Even with all the banners and streamers and bright lights of Mooglesburg, the strange glow of the Vortex could still be seen to the west. Even if it couldn't, it had a certain malevolent presence that Zidane was convinced was the reason for the frivolous nights of the townspeople.

Firion just laughed. "No need to worry, Lord Exdeath keeps a tight reign over his own. He's surprisingly reasonable for a lord of the dead."

"What, you know him?" Somehow he felt that he really shouldn't be that surprised.

"Yeah, he was the first I met on-" Here he paused and looked unsurely at Cloud. "-well, you know," he finished lamely.

"You two should get to sleep," the spirit suggested, "We'll have to cross the Cosmic Hills tomorrow. I've heard they can be… tricky." Neither could argue with that and settled down to sleep.

The next morning they slipped past the sleeping innkeeper and through the ghost town that was daytime Mooglesburg. Plain became gentle curve, curve became roll, and by midday they were totally lost.

"Mooglesburg again? I know we were walking in a straight line this time!" Zidane glared in disgust at the innocent looking hills.

"We probably were. The Hills like to play pranks on travelers, bending time and space to send them back where they started or to an appointment a day late," Firion mentioned off-handedly, "That's why Aunt Ultimecia studied space-time magic here."

"That's great if you need an excuse, but how are we going to get through?"

"Well, it's hard to say. There was a stable boy they liked before I was sent to the tower. I think his name was something like Bu- um, beginning with 'B'. He could always find his way back home when he wanted to, and to whatever time." He tilted his head in thought. "Come to think of it, Mother was like that as well. There must be some kind of trick to it…."

"Maybe you could try asking nicely," his disgruntled companion suggested sarcastically. But, as he should've guessed, the honest prince took it seriously.

He stepped forward and held out his arms entreatingly to the Hills. "Cosmic Hills, I am a son of Cosmos! Right now, in Lighthaven, my most trusted advisor is finalizing his treachery to the crown! Please, you must let me through!" he beseeched. To the group's amazement, the hills actually rolled out of the way, creating a straight path for them to follow. The wild roses that dotted the landscape shifted as well.

"Looks like they like you too," Cloud commented, drifting past the awestruck duo. Once they had reattached their jaws, they hurried to catch up.

They journeyed for hours and it was only when Zidane had to search for food –a search that ended almost instantly when a particularly chubby trio of rabbits 'coincidentally' hopped onto the path- that they noticed the sun had yet to move from its earlier position. In fact, as they moved forward, they noticed that the sun went the opposite way. It was only when they stopped for a rest that the sun continued along its way.

It was in this way that they reached Lighthaven the day before they reached Mooglesburg.

Firion made sure to thank the Hills and request that they remain open for the two armies on their way. Sure enough, when they slunk behind the inn to hide him until they could find a disguise, there were Tidus and Jecht. Judging from the torn-up grass, heavy bruising, and their somewhat explosive relationship, they seem to have brawled until they collapsed and from there took a nap.

"This again?" Zidane groaned in mock exasperation.

"'Again'? Wasn't it Tidus' kidnapping that created the rift between them?" Looking at them now, they seemed peaceful, sleeping together like a loving family. Of course the image was ruined when he remembered their attitudes on fighting.

"Yeah, but even before that they were always trying to beat the stuffing out of each other. Heh, those hills are smarter than those two combined!" he joked, "Just leave them to me." He slipped back into the city and returned a short while late carrying a bucket and a cloak. The latter he handed off to Firion, who chose not to question its origins. With bucket in hand he snuck up on the sleepers in an exaggerated tip-toe.

_Splash!_

The two started and sputtered, turning an accusing glare at each other. Zidane cleared his throat to get their attention.

"So, what's the situation?" He tossed the pail aside and helped his victims up.

"Well, we got here alright and-" Jecht found himself cut off by Tidus.

"All of the elites are in position around the palace square! See, we heard news that Mateus'll be doing some sort of parade do-hickey! We'll just jump out and surprise him!" He pumped his fist in enthusiasm.

"Kids should learn to keep their mouths shut," his father grunted, shouldering him out of the way, "The plan was to make it look like you'd gathered an army, right? I've got my men hiding around the hills."

The boy, angry at being shown up, retorted, "Why try intimidation when we could just take him out, then and there?"

"Actually, we should probably combine the two plans," Firion interjected before they could go in for round two, "He'll be going out alone into the Hills. If we just mover everyone so that his personal army can't get to him, we can deal with him ourselves. Who knows, maybe we can even get help from the inside."

"Um, that's great and all, but…." Zidane glanced dubiously at the others.

"…how do you know he'll actually do it?" asked the father-son duo in unison with an identical cocking of the head. Their bristling after the fact was exactly alike as well.

_Like father, like son,_ he chuckled in his head, mentally rolling his eyes. Apart they seemed very different but seeing them together like this… the family resemblance positively _shone._ Aloud he replied, "You could say it's a tradition rulers of Lighthaven haven to follow before they can be crowned."

"A tradition?" The three exchanged looks once again.

"They lay to rest their predecessor," Cloud spoke up. Having forgotten he was there, and in the case of Tidus and Jecht not having noticed, they all jumped in surprise. Then the impact of the words hit.

"You mean…," Zidane trailed off.

"There's no body, but he can bury something meaningful instead. The story goes that the roses in the Cosmic Hills exist as an extension of the royals' spirits… proof that they've found their rest," he exposited, shifting his gaze down as he did so. The uncomfortable silence that seemed to follow Cloud descended once more.

Tidus, twitchy at the stillness, broke it with a nervous laugh. "So, we're… crashing your funeral?"

"There's something messed up about this," Jecht grumbled.

"It's got some poetic justice to it though." His tail swished as a satisfied smirk spread across his face.

They all agreed to the new set of plans and moved around their men accordingly. The army of brigands was shifted to surround the general area in which the funeral would take place, ready to close in as necessary. Garland, as the elites' former-former leader, was placed in charge of their movements. They stayed where they were, so as to disrupt any aid Mateus might call for. All that was left was for their target to move in. According to Firion he would arrive at sundown.

Zidane found himself uncontrollably shaking as the hour of their attack drew close. Teasing from the 'kings' aside, he wasn't feeling fear. No, it was more like… anticipation. Something was coming, something that filled his chest with an almost nostalgic ache. He chalked it up to the various ambushes he'd been a part of with brigand raids and focused instead on the figure strutting over the sun-stained hill to his right.

Mateus the Sorcerer wasn't quite what he was expecting when he thought 'usurper with evil powers'. While clearly male –very clearly, from the tight clothes he wore- he possessed a certain delicate femininity of features, accentuated by a translucent pink skirt and other such strange additions to his costume. It was hard to stifle his laughter; harder still to take the big bad sorcerer seriously when he looked like a pretty pink butterfly!

The man was holding a golden staff which he held poised behind him. It began to glow with a mystical light. He swung it upwards and the light cut into the ground. This he repeated until a square had been carved. Then he used his magic to lift the chunk of earth to a nearby hill. Into the grave he threw a worn practice sword. The funeral was almost complete-

-and that's when Zidane's sixth sense _exploded_.

Three bolts of energy collided into Mateus, sending him skidding into a hill.

"What are they thinking? We haven't given the signal yet!" Firion hissed, tensing and unsure if they should follow it up. A clink of metal drew his attention from the inner dilemma to a figure posed atop the hill to their left. The last dregs of sunlight gave an aura of gold to a familiar form.

"Squall!"

Back in the city, those loyal to him got the message of the assault as soon as it occurred. The ex-brigands headed for the Hills and quickly became engaged with their old allies. As for the knights, they were wrapped up fighting the elites. All of this was observed by a young boy planning from the shadows.

Dressed in what appeared to be an authentic uniform of the knights, the boy was returning from a play session with his friends when he caught sight of the action. His city, being attacked by brigands? As if! Not while he, the Amazing Onion Knight, was around! (He paused for a moment, thinking of how he and his friends seriously needed to come up with a cooler name.) He would uphold justice!

So in the name of justice he 'borrowed' a sword from a hastily abandoned armory and went after the weak-looking one that just escaped into an alley. There the brigand was tying a letter to the leg of a carrier pigeon.

"Sending for reinforcements? I don't think so, brigand!" he announced. With a wild yell he charged forward at the gaping criminal.

"Whoa, wait, what?" the man yelped. He turned to run- only to remember it was a dead end. 'Onion Knight' grinned in triumph. The idiot got himself trapped, and was that resignation?

Alas, had he been paying better attention, he would have noticed the dangerous shift of someone who has decided that words won't work. Just as his sword was about to strike, a blast of magic shot him backwards.

_A mage?_ he thought, fighting down the panic, _W- well, no matter. I'll just have to be quicker this time!_ And that he was, back in the brigand's face before he could think to cast a spell. Again he swung, but the man summoned a sword to block and send him flying once again. He charged, now with spear in hand. The boy dodged and fired off potshot thrusts in hopes of getting lucky and dealing some damage.

Every one hit a shield that had replaced the spear.

He grunted in disgust and formulated a new plan as he dodged around the twirls of a lance. He slipped under the other's arms and dashed around to attack from behind. Predictably, he was blocked. But what the brigand didn't realize was that getting the jump on him wasn't his plan!

From there he leapt up and all around, leading his opponent on an exhaustive chase. Around and around he went until the man fell on his rear, too worn to fight (or rather, dizzy.) He readied the final strike-

-and dodged an arrow from the bow now resting in the man's hands. This was all he needed to recover, jump to his feet… and run away. The boy gave chase as best he could but lost him in the chaos of the battle. Gritting his teeth, he smacked away in frustration at some armored man's helmet.

Firion couldn't believe his eyes. Squall, here, aiding him? He supposed it made sense, given the relationship not only with himself, but with Mateus, but it still seemed like too much to hope for. And yet, there he stood, the sun dim compared to the smoldering in his eyes.

Zidane wasn't sure how he knew, but the man who had just made such as entrance was a Warrior of the cosmos. Firion's, in fact. It was almost as if there was some sort of scent on him that just screamed of the prince's ownership. He wondered if the same was true of him.

"Mateus, your lies end here!" His words seemed to crack the air. "I've been to the tower where you locked Firion away, and now I know that he's been dead for years! He may be gone, but I will not let you steal his kingdom!"

"How reckless, Leonhart," the usurper said through clenched teeth as he rose, "Or perhaps it's pride? Do you truly believe that you can kill a Court Sorcerer so easily, Warrior of the Cosmos or not?" The stoic face gave no reply. "You flatter yourself too much, gunblader." They both struck at the same time.

Squall darted down the hill, deflecting energy blasts shot blasted at him. He swung, only for the intended target to slip away and launch a massive fireball at point blank range. He was forced to run away, as his healing factor was already at its limit slowing down the curse. Already he was feeling some effects beyond tired limbs; there was no way another Cosmos Warrior could be here.

The gunblade spat a few round at Mateus, who merely threw up a shield and returned them. There was no choice but to risk injury and attack close range. Speeding towards him he slashed rapidly upwards, too fast for the sorcerer to protect himself. Unable to avoid the strike, a deep wound made itself known across his torso. The follow-up attack, however, was interrupted by more magical projectiles.

Grunting in pain, Mateus knew he had to end this and _fast. _He planted a lightning trap right where his opponent was about to step. In the shocked pain that followed the attack's execution, he charged up what would surely be the final blow. He chuckled in self-satisfaction.

"Heavens!" he called, and answer they did. One of their lot hurtled towards the defenseless gunblader.

The spectators, having had their hands full repelling ricochets and brigands who made it past their miniature army, now acted. Cloud lunged forward and directed all of his power into warding off the meteor. Tidus snagged Squall's arm to drag him away while the other three charged to take down Mateus once and for all.

That was when it all went wrong.

Two energies, sorcerer and spirit, collided and repelled one another. The sheer combined energy knocked into all of them.

Blinding light shifted to an endless dark.


	3. Manuevering

Squall at first just wanted to sleep. He was so tired, and right now, it seemed to be almost a tangible thing. It must have been for that reason that the Cosmic Hills shifted themselves to prick him with a rose.

Everything flooded back to him and he jolted awake. Too late, it seemed, for the lack of energy that had gripped him at the tower was back full force. He was dying.

_Firion, dead. Mateus, alive no doubt. And myself, alive only for now. I'm what they call a failure, aren't I?_ Not able to manage anything else, he peered around himself. It didn't look like the place where he had just fought, but that meant nothing in the Cosmic Hills. A short distance away lay a blond teen, snoring up a storm. _Must be the one who grabbed me before that attack._

Finally even his back gave out and he was forced to gaze up into the blue sky of early morning. Not that it meant anything in the Cosmic Hills either._ So this is how the great Warrior of the Cosmos meets his end._ It almost made him want to laugh.

"You're awake." He shifted his head sluggishly to meet the eyes of a spirit.

_It's almost as if he has no eyes at all,_ he noted in a manner alarmingly lacking in lucidity.

"What's wrong?" The spirit's voice sounded close and far at the same time. "Wait, is that…?" He hadn't the energy to even question his apparent discovery. Against his will his eyelids began to slide down.

Cloud cursed; Squall would soon journey to the lands beyond if the curse wasn't stopped. _I didn't lay this one… but maybe I can lift it anyway. I have to at least try. _He concentrated and soon tendrils of spirit energy were burrowing into the prone form. The curse pulsed strongly, having shrugged off the enhanced healing. He grasped at it and jerked. Yes- while Mateus was a powerful sorcerer, no human could hope to cast a curse as strong as a spirit could, nor could they fight against a spirit's power. Desperate to fulfill its purpose, the curse clung with all its might to whatever it could; Squall's body, his mind, even Cloud himself.

However, with great effort he ripped it clear. The writhing spell struggled to take hold of him but for once his lack of substance was useful. He gasped as it managed to find purchase in the core of his energy. There it gorged, taking in more and more of that energy, until it had enough to form itself into a solid shape. Still it continued to drain the helpless spirit.

Just as he'd felt he was about to die, Squall's energy surged dizzyingly back into him. Upon recovery he rose shakily to his feet and watched his savior's struggles. As soon as he saw a rose start to form within in him he sprang into action-

-or would've if his weapon had been on him. Scanning the area revealed it to be with the boy who could sleep through anything. By the time he returned with it, Cloud was but a blur enmeshed within a tangle of rose vines. Without hesitation he had his blade hacking them to pieces. They shriveled away and both Cloud's energy and the curse's were returned to him.

In fact, the added boost seemed to make him more solid than before. Experimentation showed that now he could hold objects for a few seconds at a time before they sank through his hands. Attempts at waking Tidus failing, they resolved to wait and then search for the others.

Firion awoke to the sound of waves and harsh sand rubbing against his cheek. Groggily he stirred and took in his surroundings, noting the beach but not really registering it. "What… happened?"

An answering groan came from his left. It was Jecht, rubbing at a sore neck. Just a little distance further was Zidane. He was busy shaking sand out of his shoes and clothes. The trio's eyes met, each more confused than the last.

"We must've been blasted all this way from the fight… where are we?" he wondered.

"I'm not sure, if we assume this is the closest beach to Lighthaven, then this is the northern shore of the Odyssey Sea. But I don't recognize anything," Firion said, glancing around again.

"The others don't seem to be around," Jecht commented, "Think they're still fighting?"

"If they are we must rejoin them!" the prince declared strongly, rising and turning in what he assumed to be the right direction. The other two at first wondered why he was hesitating, then realized he was squinting at something. Sure enough, a trail of dust was rising out of the ground, heading straight for them. In no time at all the cause was skidding to a halt in front of them.

It was a large chocobo, outfitted as one from the royal stables. Atop it, now leaping down, was a young brunet man in a simple tunic.

"You're- " Firion began as his arm was grasped by the newcomer.

"There's no time for that now, Mateus has convinced the people that you're a brigand disguised as the late prince! You have to come with me; when I left there was a mob at my heels!" Upon hearing the news, Firion went along willingly with his insistent tugs. Left with no other choice the others followed. The man shouted some instructions at the chocobo to create a false trail and then they were off, charging through the surf.

The fake-out had no discernable effect, as a large crowd of blindly impassioned Cosmosians were soon within range to start chucking stones at them. However, by nightfall they'd managed to lose them with their superior endurance. This pattern continued for the next few days before they reached their destination: Port Balthier.

The man, now introduced as Bartz the Stable Master, had refused to say more than that there was someone they needed to meet up with. They were uneasy with that less than clear picture of the situation, but Firion was sure that he was trustworthy. And anyway, when being chased by the persistent mob, beggars couldn't be choosers. Especially when it turned out that the news had been spread to the port.

The Havendwellers had long since, for the most part, been forced to give up. Oh no, it was the rough 'n ready Balthens that proved to be troublesome. Even following every shortcut and back way Zidane knew they had amassed a sizable number of pursuers by the time they reached the dock.

"Almost there!" cried Bartz, zipping around a sharp corner and running full tilt towards a sleek looking ship, its figurehead raising its arms to the heavens as if in askance. Together they dashed up the gangplank, which was then pulled up behind them by the ready crew.

Firion's relief lasted until he noticed where he was. "This ship- it can't be!" He jerked their guide to be facing him. "What do you think you're playing at?"

"Calm down! I swear, it's not what you think!" he squeaked, edging back from the wrathful prince.

"Firion, what's gotten into you?" Zidane broke the grip on Bartz's shoulder.

"He's right. It's not like you to fly into such a rage." At that voice the prince and his knight stiffened and turned slowly to face an unforgettable visage.

"Sephiroth…," they hissed, reaching for their respective weapons.

"Sephiroth? Ain't that the traitor prince?" Jecht moved to place himself between the infamous swordsman and his more frail companions.

"That is where you're wrong," he stated. They tensed further when he reached for his sword- only to toss it to his brother's feet. "Much like you, Mateus' has been using my name to further his goals."

"And just how do you know what-" He caught sight of Bartz by his brother's side. "So that's it. You had a spy!"

"I thought it might be best to have someone to keep me informed. Looks like I was right."

"Tch!" They were quite the distance from the port now; there was no way to turn back.

"I promise you, this is all a misunderstanding. Can't my brother find it in his heart to listen to another side?" He stepped forward, around Jecht, and extended a hand. A hand his brother viciously swiped from the air.

"Was what happened to Cloud a misunderstanding?" he snarled.

A look of…_something_ formed on his face. Confusion? Shock? Guilt? None of the onlookers were sure, nor sympathetic enough to care. Even before Firion's exile he had done some horrible things. After that time he dealt gouging blows to the kingdom's economy by raiding their various trading partners. Any green-behind-the-ears cabin boy, even one with aspirations of glory, knew not to mess with the cruel Captain Sephiroth.

"Cloud?" It came out almost as a whisper.

Firion, now on a roll, didn't bother checking his words. "Yes, remember him? I'd always thought that the pirates got him in that attack, but he told me the truth! He was a hostage that you murdered!"

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed. "_He_ told you?" The implications of the statement made themselves known to him. "So he hated me after all."

"Who wouldn't after what you did?" snapped Zidane. He wasn't answered, however, and the one he address turned and swept away, nodding to Bartz. He nervously cleared his throat as the glares were turned on him.

"Firion, I know you only knew me for a year, but you don't really think I'm a traitor, do you?" The prince looked like he wanted to retort but swallowed it and looked away.

"Why… come to the palace," he finally asked weakly. The man's eyes brightened at the apparent forgiveness.

"Well, I was a normal pirate before I met Sephiroth. You know, sailing the seas, seeing new places, breeding chocobos…." No one bothered pointing out that piracy did not, in fact, have anything to do with the above. "So anyways, one day a bunch of mean-looking guys came to raid _me_ –thought I was a chocobo breeder or something, imagine that!- and there he was, saving me! I was the first member of his crew!"

"For awhile we just stuck with raiding places that wouldn't have an impact on Lighthaven, but then news started going around about how Mateus was gaining influence. Sephiroth sent me in to get the scoop. It became kinda a permanent thing after the curse and flower bed were laid," he laughed. Once again it went right over Firion's head, sparking another moment of his genome companion laughing at his expense.

"When those brigands attacked a few days back, I knew it was time to act. That's why Sephiroth was waiting here for you!" With his exposition over with, he eased into an easygoing slouch.

"But where are you taking us? The fight's back that way!" said Jecht, gesturing the way they came.

"Things'll be hairy in the capital for awhile so the next best thing you can do is get more allies, right?" They had to agree that this was the case. "We're heading to the land of the genomes!"

Squall would choke on the silence that followed.

"You do realize my people won't do anything to help, right?" A shaky smile plastered itself on Zidane's face. Their guide only laughed.

"Good thing we're not going to see them, huh? You didn't really think a guy as smart as Sephiroth would just twiddle his thumbs for seven years, did you? Bet you'll never guess who he found there!" Despite saying this, he urged them childishly to try. They were not amused.

"Man, you guys are such a bunch of party poopers," he mock-groaned, "It's your very own cousin, Cecil! Apparently he got a little sidetracked while searching for his dad."

"Cecil's been found?" cried Firion, the last dregs of animosity slipping down the drain, "But wait, only Cecil? Golbez should be with him. Do you think something happened?"

"We haven't actually gotten in contact with him yet, so… no clue. Sorry." His apology was waved off.

"It's not your fault. I just wish I knew," he sighed, "Mateus told me that all of them were dead. I didn't want to believe it… and now that I know at least one is alive, it just makes it seem like he might've been right about the rest… since they were supposed to be together…." A melancholy air settled around him.

"You're doing the Cloud-thing," Zidane promptly informed him. As could be expected of the genome, this broke the mood well.

"Cloud… thing?"

"See, you did it again!" he declared, jabbing a finger at him, "It must be some kind of airborne disease… the Dramatic Ellipses enter your brain and suddenly you're producing them too!"

"Come to think of it, we've all been doing it more since we've met Cloud…," ellipsesed Jecht.

"That explains so much about Sephiroth…," Bartz commented.

"But I haven't been using…." Firion trailed off in realization. The four exchanged laughs until a passing crewman 'accidentally' hit them over their heads with a plank.

Mateus so loved it when he found an unwitting pawn. The entire Cosmos family had truly proved to be useful, and by extension of their kindness, so were their people. But none so far, not even foolish little Firion, could have prepared him for this child beaming proudly before him.

"I'll be the best knight ever! You can count on me to defend Lighthaven from the brigands!" Why, he could even see the little gears turning in his head. Naïve he may be, but this one was a schemer.

"That I will. How could I do any less for the one who so bravely took up arms to defend the city?" He caught sight of the captain of the knights waiting by the door. "Ah, it would appear you're wanted elsewhere."

The other took note of the waiting man and nodded with a pleased hum. He took his leave to begin his training. Free now of his listeners, he addressed the one perched near the ceiling.

"The curse was fulfilled, was it?" He let his displeasure seep into the words. Let the boy know how dispensable he was, how easily he could be punished. A little sweat would work well to break down his unwarranted arrogance.

"I did just as you said," he sniffed haughtily, "It seems that rose of yours is more tenacious than you supposed."

"And just how is it that he survived? Even with my powers it would've been impossible to break such a strong curse," Mateus said with an arched brow.

"As if I would know." His assassin waved the question away. "If from the start I'd been _permitted_ to construct my own end to this ludicrous fairytale-"

"I can risk no more to learn of my connection to his disposal than there already is. Now, because of your failure, there are six more targets to overcome. Our dear prince, our course, in addition to Squall, a couple of brigands accompanying them, our former stable master, and a genome." He waited for some kind of response.

Nothing.

He continued, "I trust that they will be taken care of this time?"

"Your confidence overwhelms me; I believe I might faint," the other scoffed, "The very thought of failing again offends me, as does your diffidence."

"For your sake, I had better not see the prince again. Otherwise I may just have to drop you back with the other trash. Now go."

Pride wounded once more, the assassin slunk out the window in a way few others could. Mateus smirked at a job well done.

Or would've if not for the hideous cackle that filled his chambers.

"As I've told you countless times before, I have no desire to rely on _you_. So you can take your _pet_," he sneered, turning to face his visitor and the blank-faced girl he had in tow, "and crawl back into the filthy marsh from whence you came." The clown laughed as if he'd told a joke. Only the girl remained serene. Or rather, as blank as the snow of her home village.

"But I wanted to have some fun!" the newcomer giggled, "What, don't miss your old master?" His laughter by this point had his back twisted unnaturally backwards.

He mentally cursed the clown, whom he wouldn't even grudgingly admit was his mentor in the mystic arts. While the skills he had acquired were indeed impressive, his teacher's manner irritated him to no end; his period under his tutelage was one he preferred to forget.

"The only one who could stop me is believed to be an imposter by his own citizens. Soon, he won't even be that. What possible used would I have for you, whose skills have long since been eclipsed by my own?"

"That's where she comes in," he declared with relish, gesturing to the statue beside him, "You don't find raw power like this outside of the lands beyond. Isn't that right, little miss?" he cooed. Fingers writhed before her face in a gross parody of a parent to a newborn.

Mateus remained unimpressed. Toying with the idea of calling the guards, he replied flatly, "My foes will soon be but a memory. As titillating as it would be to control this supposed power, my little assassin will take care of them." He had to pause for the inevitable laughter.

"You're as bad as ever at locating things, aren't you?" The man didn't even bother wiping away the tears of mirth making streaks in his makeup. "There are now two groups, and one is headed straight this way!" He broke off into bursts of wild amusement. The other sorcerer was about to speak when he grew alarmingly quiet. "Looks like you have some use for us after all." He leaned in close with a sickening grin.

Recoiling, he responded with absolute disgust, "Very well, you may have your 'fun'. But know this: if you fail and I ever see your face again, I'll do what I should've done when I left your bumbling teaching."

"Yes, yes, of course, _Emperor,_" the clown sniggered before snapping his fingers. The girl turned with him and they walked out together. This left Mateus finally alone, wondering why all his allies were so insufferable.

The land of the genomes, already but a short voyage away, seemed to appear instantly. The _One Winged Angel_, fast ship that it was, completed the trip in just two weeks as opposed to the usual month. Throughout that time Sephiroth avoided the party, preferring to leave communication to Bartz. Naturally, there were no objections.

"So how's it feel to be back home after so long?" Jecht asked Zidane when they first stepped off the gangplank into the port city.

"Hard to say," he replied, gazing upwards in thought, "The reason I left in the first place was my father trying to get me to do something I didn't want to." He crossed his arms behind his head with a laugh. "I guess you could say I'm just hoping I don't meet up with him while we're here."

"More daddy issues? Are you guys forming a club?" Even after their time spent together, they couldn't help but stare dumbfounded at Bartz. "What? There's the issues with Jecht and Tidus, you and your dad, and Firion mentioned fighting a lot with his father-"

"My parents married to protect this world from the chaos without! I thought that my father had some sort of malicious plan in store for Mother, so I-" he broke off at the others' snickering. "It was his kingdom endangering ours that made the marriage necessary! How would you have felt?"

"I assume they would've been happy to be born," commented Sephiroth as he swept past them. The group choked with the exception of Bartz, who bounded exuberantly after him, cajoling them to hurry it along. This they did, wondering where he got his energy from.

Jecht looked expectantly at the prince. "So, you ready to reunite with this cousin of yours? Cecil?"

"Yes, it's long since been time. He and the others left shortly before the journey that Cloud died on," he sighed.

"That's right; you two were on the same ship. Did you not get along, and that's why he agreed to curse you?"

"To be honest, I spent most of the voyage going over the history of my mother's politics. I was never actually meant to be the heir," he explained, "Sephiroth was the one raised to take over when our parents died, but he gave that up to me, claiming that I was the one who would do well by the people."

"And Cloud?" he prompted.

Firion shrugged. "I knew he was there, but we never actually met. He seemed to hate me anyway." Before he could expand on that thought, they rounded a corner and nearly bumped into their guides.

"Glad you could join us," said his brother dryly. He flushed in embarrassment. "This is the inn he's been staying at." The building to their right. "Shall we?"

"You guys go on ahead," spoke up Zidane, who'd remained silent up to this point, "I spotted something awhile back that I want to investigate."

"Alright. When you're done, meet us back here," ordered Firion. He agreed and trotted off back the way they came. When he was sure no one was watching anymore, he raced into an alley. Around the streets he raced, knowing the back ways like his own hand.

Finally, when he deemed the workout sufficiently tiring, he whipped around and brought his knives down upon the head of the one who'd been following them. A small burst of magic threw them off and he was forced to flip away to avoid the strikes that followed.

"A most masterful performance," complimented the assailant, clapping delicate hands together.

"Not bad yourself," he shot back. Now able to get a good look at him, those hands were all that could be seen clearly. The rest was covered by a long hooded cloak.

"Bravado will get you nowhere," he was warned. The figure, who seemed to be floating if the movement of the cloak was anything to go by, summoned orbs of lights in a ring around him. "You were a fool to have deserted your charge's side."

"And what does that makes you for following the decoy?" he taunted right back. His stance shifted ever so slightly in preparation for the fight.

"Ha! Clever you may be for detecting my presence, you're still but an inerudite buffoon for thinking you could challenge me." The orbs shifted to be more in front of him, in the process lighting up his face. Zidane took note of intricate features much like Mateus'.

"You're pretty wordy for a hit man. What, are you going to talk me to death?" _Even if it's all I can do, I need to keep this guy occupied while the others meet with Cecil,_ he thought, noting the way his opponent stiffened,_ That's rights, just keep talking._

"Are you trying to imply that I'm stalling?" he growled. Well, as close to a growl as his lyrical voice could get.

"Well it's not like you've been doing anything this entire time. So far you're even more disappointing than Mateus!" That seemed to hit home.

"Then I suppose I'll have to make things more interesting!" he snapped, "I'll see you rue your coquetry with death!" At once he found himself dodging blasts of light as the now enraged attacker zipped around the enclosed space.

"You talk big, but you're just a one-trick pony!" he shouted over the ruckus. A quick roll to the left was all that saved him from more than a singe. In return he rapidly spun his blades, pushing him back.

"And you aren't even that!" the man retorted, quickly casting a powerful light spell that blasted Zidane down the length of the alley.

He pushed himself to his feet, resolving to take the fight more seriously. Springing from wall to wall, he tuned into what the cosmos could tell him about his opponent. It didn't look good. If he could get in close, he could get some attacks in before his target could react but….

A close call with a burst of energy drew him from his thoughts. He leapt to avoid the onslaught and flipped over the other's form. Slashing a deadly arc through the air, he whirled around, managing to strike on the shoulder area. A loud clang announced the presence of armor below the cloak. Nevertheless, he continued his assault, sometimes encountering armor, sometimes being blocked.

His opponent growled in frustration, soaring out of the way. A steady stream of the orbs was fired off towards him, testing his acrobatics in the narrow battleground. It was these acrobatics that brought him high enough to smack the other out of the sky. He extended his daggers before him as he fell to end the fight then and there.

A quick dodge saved the mage, but he was unable to keep up with the barrage that followed. It was all he could do just avoiding the majority of the blows. His skin was saved, but the same could not be said about his cloak. It hung in tatters around him, only the hood left untouched. All it took was one slash to make the whole things fall off.

In the shock that followed, Zidane was hit full force with a sudden flare.

Tumbling to the ground, he could only watch, stunned, as his attacker approached. Not even distracted by his scanty ensemble, he stared openly at the head of silver hair.

Just like Firion.

Just like Sephiroth.

"I thought- only Cecil- unless-!" he babbled until a heel slammed into his head.

"Be silent, wretch," commanded the frosty stranger, "Is this the best the prince has guarding him? How imprudent to rely upon so weak a champion! I should end you after all!" The last part was said as a snarl, one final orb forming in an anger-tensed hand. "Die!"

Zidane panicked, knowing that even advanced healing wouldn't save him from this one. Even with adrenaline pumping, his body refused to move. The orb descended-

-as a cry of "Stop!" echoed throughout the alley.

To say the least, Cecil was surprised. Having found only trails leading nowhere in his search for his father, he was ready to leave the land of the genomes. Not to mention he'd heard troubling rumors of late. Sephiroth, a traitor? Firion, cursed? Concern for them battled with the self-imposed duty of locating his father. So when the two strolled into his room….

"Firion! Sephiroth!" he cried, rising to greet them, "Cousins, it's been too long! I've heard the most awful things, but I'm glad to see they were untrue." He embraced them, relief swiftly morphing into worry as he noted their stiffened frames. "The rumors… that's all they are, right?" His mouth felt dry at the silence.

A muscular man standing behind Firion coughed awkwardly. "A curse? A traitor? Yeah, those are all true." He snapped his neck, presumably to distract himself from the awkward atmosphere.

"Actually, Sephiroth was framed," the fourth person corrected. Cecil could sense the upcoming arguments before they even knew they were going to retort, such was his experience. As had always been the case, he diffused the situation before it could start.

"But how could this be? What's happened these past seven years?" He looked from one to the other. If Sephiroth was a traitor then why was Firion, supposedly cursed, together with him now? Why wasn't he ruling his kingdom?

"Actually, that's… why we've come," Firion admitted, "Squall was right about Mateus."

"What?" he gasped.

"The man cursed Firion to get him out of the way. Almost worked too," the muscled man grunted.

"I- I see…." He grew solemn. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" asked the startled prince. This only made the guilt cut deeper.

"I've been gone for too long. As much as I want to find Father, I should've been there for my cousins as they went through hard times. It was wrong of me to sacrifice my remaining family for Father." Closing his eyes, he let out a breath of air. "From now on I'll make amends."

"That's not necessary! …but your help is appreciated," the other said softly.

"So what are you planning to do? Do you need another Warrior of the Cosmos?" He received a nod in reply.

"I'm not sure where Squall is, but a new Warrior is here." Noticing the dubious glance at the man behind him, he hastily added, "In the city. He said there was something he wanted to investigate and took off."

"Perhaps we should find him before we continue?" All agreed and began the search.

That led to the second surprise of the day.

"Stop!" he yelled, calling the power of the stars down upon the figure menacing the one he sensed to be a fellow Warrior. He was sent rocketing into a wall and didn't get up again. The others, investigating around the area, ran to the sound of the violence.

The Warrior stirred but didn't seem able to move. "Wh- who…?" he asked, struggling to raise his head.

He knelt and held his new colleague in a manner that allowed them to see each others' face. "Zidane, was it? May name is Cecil." In the background he could hear the others moving about, some going to the body of the assailant. "Who was that, the one who hurt you so badly?"

"I don't know. Said he was after Firion," he gasped.

From where the man in question lay, a startled cry came from Firion. Soon a surprised grunt came from Sephiroth as well.

"What is it?" he called, not wanting to take his gaze from his injured fellow.

"I thought only members of the royal family of Lighthaven had silver hair," commented Jecht. There was a rustle of clothing and then there he was in front of Cecil, who could finally get a good look at the one he'd taken out. Indeed, he had the features of a son of Cosmos.

"I don't understand, who could he be?" He searched fruitlessly for something –anything- that could give him an indication of what he was dealing with. Or at least he thought it was fruitless.

"Hey, it that a tail?" Bartz piped up, pointing out what had slipped into view during the body search.

"So he's a genome? That means that it's just a coincidence that he looks like you guys, right?" asked Jecht, looking from one royal to another. They stayed silent for a moment.

"Actually, it would explain a lot," admitted Cecil, "And if I'm right-"

"We may just have found ourselves a clue," finished Firion.

"At any rate, let's return to the inn," Sephiroth suggested, "An alleyway is no place to talk _or_ let one's wounds recover."

Back at the inn, with both genomes patched up and sleeping off their battle, they explained their theory of his identity.

"It's not something we like to talk about much," Firion started off, pacing, "Even Mother disapproved. I'm sure you know of the two branches of the family that currently exist?" They did. "On my side there were only us two siblings. But I have three cousins."

"Cecil, Golbez, and… huh," said Bartz as ticked them off on his fingers, "Was there a third?"

"I kind of remember there being an eldest daughter, but…." Jecht shrugged noncommittally.

"My older sister," offered Cecil, "She was already… different by the time I was born. I remember that when I was young she was sent to negotiate with the genomes."

"She dallied, and months went past the time she was due home." He shot Sephiroth a grateful look for taking over. "As a matter of fact, it was about nine months."

"So this guy is your nephew!" cried Bartz, "What?" The cheerful man was confused by the looks being given him.

"Two weeks… you'd think we'd be used to it," muttered Jecht.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Cecil coughed. "In any case, Mateus must have some hold on him. I never thought I'd fight my own flesh and blood… Mateus must pay!"

"Are we still here?" whined Tidus, childishly kicking at a nearby hill, "It's been two weeks, why won't the Hills let us leave?"

No reply.

"You two are such zombies!" he scoffed, "At least Cloud has the excuse that he's dead!"

No reply.

"So when's the wedding?" _That_ at least got a grunt and a glare. Then the two went back to ignoring him. "Uagh, guys, this's killing me! Cloud, can't you use your spirit powers or something to get us out of here?"

"My powers have gotten weaker since I became more solid. I don't have the abilities of the living and I'm losing the powers of a spirit… guess there really is a fate worse than death," he muttered.

"Well, at least your ellipsesitis is mostly cured!" Cloud was not nearly as amused as Tidus was and made sure he knew it. "Ow! Hey, I thought you were losing your powers!" The two would've carried on if Squall hadn't interrupted.

"Cloud, you said the Hills cooperated when Firion stated his purpose."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, "They set up time and space to get us where we needed to be."

That was all he wanted to hear. "Cosmic Hills," he addressed, "I'm Squall Leonhart, Prince Firion's first Warrior of the Cosmos. We need to aid him whatever way we can. Now whatever your reason is for keeping us here, you need to let us face our duty." For a moment nothing happened. Then the Hills shifted to create a trail of roses. Now knowing where they needed to go, Squall felt a faint warning from his powers. "So that's why. We've got trouble."

"Heh, better go take care of it then!" Tidus grinned enthusiastically as he drew his sword.

"We won't be played around with anymore." Seeming to forget his current lack of ability, Cloud floated swiftly down the trail. The other two were quick to follow.

Now that the Hills were cooperating, they arrived at the place of danger a week ago, while a duo of presumable threats slept. They had apparently just arrived in that area.

_Meaning they're tired_, thought Squall. He approached quietly, gunblade in hand, to take care of the threat.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" hissed Tidus, snagging his arm and jerking it back, "You're just gonna… you know… in their sleep?"

"If we kill them now, they won't be a threat later," he muttered back, shaking off the other's grip. The girl was closer, so he began with his her. He raised his blade-

"You can't do this while they're sleeping!" This, while still a whisper, was enough. The girl's eyes snapped open. Quickly he tried to finish the job, only to be sent flying by a sudden torrent of water.

"Now they're awake," he commented dryly. The girl's companion, who appeared to be a clown, floated to his feet. _Two mages… Mateus isn't playing around._ He readied his stance, the other two joining him.

"Stupid Mateus!" the clown chortled as he looked the three over, "A spirit cures the prince, of course! He really is useless without his master!" Wasting no more time, he snapped his fingers.

In an instant the girl was upon them, magics flaring wildly in every direction. They scattered, the living staying to battle the one who seemed to be stronger, the spirit aiming for her master. Tidus flung himself headlong at their opponent only to get caught in a whirlwind.

Squall took the opportunity to fire at her unprotected back. All of his shots were deflected but she dropped the hapless swordsman to deal with the fighter with the longer range. He found himself narrowly avoiding chunks of spinning ice. From above his back-up came, slashing downwards, only to be once again caught in her tornado, this time with the addition of Squall.

Blades of wind cutting into their faces, the duo was sent slamming into the ground hard enough to break the earth's surface. They had no time to rest, however, as they had to roll to avoid fireballs. Tidus leapt up and shot forward. He swerved around the various missiles sent his way, striking when he got close enough. She back-flipped to avoid it-

-landing right in front of Squall's incoming blade. With a strangled cry she toppled to the ground. He looked at the rapidly reddening soil with grim satisfaction, then turned his attention to where Cloud was matching the clown's blows as best he could. Already Tidus was making his was past torn up earth to join him. Squall himself wanted to take the same action but….

Warning blared in his mind before he could move more than a step. An explosion of energy sent him reeling down to his knees, under which he could feel the Hills themselves quaking. Everything in him screamed_ Threat! Threat! Threat!_

Before he could move away, he felt claws dig into his back. With more strength than he'd thought she could possess he was then lifted and flung forward.

"You've really done it now!" the clown crowed, sending spears of ice cascading in his direction. Unable to avoid them, he was impaled through his shoulder.

"Squall!" cried Tidus, only to get buffeted away by what could hardly be considered a girl anymore.

She was surrounded by a glow, an aura of power. This only illuminated her now alien features. Smooth pink fur curved with her form, jagged only where it ended.

Hands tinted with Squall's blood grasped grotesquely at the air, casting a powerful spell. He took off running, knowing that the injured man wouldn't be able to avoid it, just barely being able to slide them both out of the way. In the process he felt a sharp pain; their opponent had struck him a grazing blow. Despite Cloud's best efforts to distract his, the other mage had lost interest in the intangible foe.

He yanked what was left of the ice out of Squall's shoulder. Then it was back to dodging the work of now two mages, carrying the other as he recovered. With ricocheting fireballs singing his heels and a multitude of magic orbs cascading from where the girl soared through the air, he hoped the recovery would be soon.

"Miss me?" He jumped in fright as the painted face appeared suddenly before him, cackling. Before either could make a move, however, Cloud mustered up as much energy as he could to send a wave of blue spirit energy knocking into the man.

"Getting your powers back?" he panted, hopping on his toes to avoid the magic of his pursuer.

"No, if anything it's still getting weaker," he replied, phasing through shards of ice that careened wildly out of nowhere. "If I'm given time to build it up I can make some impact."

"Do you think you can build it up enough to take out the girl?" Said girl happened to be gaining on them and appeared to be charging up something of her own.

"I'll see what I can do," he promised. Halting to increase his concentration he began to glow with energy. The clown seemed to sense his intent and threw his whole repertoire at him, only for his magics to pass through or else glance off the spirit.

Tidus used the decrease in firepower as a chance to run to the top of the nearest hill (which was much closer than it seemed when he first spotted it…) and drop Squall on the other side. Now with his arms free he was able to flip up and strike at the vicious mage. Before she could counterattack he dropped back down and took off in the opposite direction of his incapacitated comrade.

Figuring that Cloud was taking care of her anyway, he turned his attention to the other mage. He seemed to be immensely frustrated to the point of defying all logic that would suggest to try his luck his a solid target. The madman danced around, casting spell after spell at the impervious spirit.

As Tidus ran to bring down the jester, his eyes met Cloud's. Their understanding was mutual. Girl in tow he recklessly slammed into her master, sending them both tumbling away. She followed ever quicker.

Cloud released the built-up energy.

It collided midair with her. For a moment she only froze. Then, crackling with energy, her form shifted back to that of a human, flopping onto the ground.

"No_oo_," moaned the clown from where Tidus was holding him pinned. He pressed harder on to be blasted back by a quick spell. Starting to really hate mages, he got up and prepared to tackle him again. The enemy was casting some sort of spell on his cohort, a spell that was disrupted easily by a weak blast of spirit energy. "Why you-" he snapped at Cloud.

"Careful," Tidus warned, "That guy's got a bad case of ellipsesitis! It's catching!"

He recoiled. "Not that!" And with that he simply disappeared.

"It wasn't funny the first time." The mutterings of the ellipseitis-sufferer fell on deaf ears. The elite was too busy gawking at the mage that had been left behind.

"If Squall were awake, he'd want us to kill her," he noted somberly.

"We should. There's no telling when she'll wake up… or even if we'll be able to beat her again." Though saying this, he seemed just as bothered by the idea.

"Something just doesn't feel right." He arranged the body to be laying more comfortably, then retrieved Squall. For awhile the two just stared at their captive. He was about to suggest they just leave her there when she began to stir.

"Wh- what happened…?" she moaned, eyes fluttering open. When they did they blinked in bewilderment. "This… this isn't Soulhaven. Where… am I"

_Wow, she's even worse than Cloud!_ "Wait, so you don't remember?"

"Remember?" She thought for a moment. "My old teacher came into town… he said he needed me for something. Then, this." She gestured all around her. "Is Master Kefka here too?"

"If you mean the clown, he abandoned you here," said Cloud.

"What? That can't be!" She looked back and forth between the them to verify that answer. "But why?"

"After we beat you two- oh, I… guess you don't remember that- uh…." He gazed helplessly at Cloud.

"It could be that he was controlling you somehow."

"Yeah! That explains why you don't remember! See, there was magic everywhere and then you were pink and-"

"You're babbling," Squall cut in.

His eyes lit up. "Squall, you're awake! You should've seen it, Cloud knocked her straight out of the air and the clown ran away 'cause he was scared of his-"

"You're _not_ saying it again." A glare served to hit the point home. He laughed nervously, scratching his head in a remarkably Jecht-like way.

"Um, I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm sor-"

"You didn't know what you were doing," Squall cut her off, "At any rate, we should get moving again. We can talk on the way." They all agreed and were soon heading off to leave the Hills.

Except for Cloud.

At first he thought they were just around the next hill but exploration revealed more of the same. Emptiness. So he continued on, for what else could he do? The Hills wouldn't let him leave until they'd had their way with him.

It was several days before he noticed that sunset was succeeding night, not dawn. The Cosmic Hills were taking him back in time, quite a ways by the look of it. He lost track of how long he wandered, time soon seeming to compress into an endless noon.

He got so used to his only company being roses that when he did actually see another human being, he just stared stupidly at him.

_Sephiroth._

"Why did you take me here?" he murmured to the Hills. Experimentally he sent off a blast of power. It shifted to another time before it had progressed more than a foot. _If not to kill him, then why?_ His memories of their last meeting coursed hotly through him, hatred as vehement as the first year he had spent in Mount Auron.

The sound of shifting soil brought his attention back to the ex-prince. He was shoveling dirt slowly from the hill in a rectangular shape.

_Digging a grave? Who would he be burying?_ He noted that the body, whomever it was, was wrapped in canvas off to the side. With a final grunt, Sephiroth seemed satisfied with the depth of the hole. The body was lifted, canvas and all, and placed next to its resting place. It was slowly unwrapped, the man obviously taking great care with it.

Cloud floated in closer, guessing that this was what he was there for. What he saw stunned him.

Gently his murderer lifted his body from the canvas and lowered it into the grave, not even suspecting he had an audience. The soil was slid back in and he patted it down with his bare hands.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, almost too softly to be heard. Then, without a backward glance, he slunk off. If he had but turned his head, he would have beheld the miracle taught to him since childhood.

Roses.

A splendid bush grew rapidly from the fresh earth. It was covered with, not red, but blue roses. He approached in wonder.

_Only children of the cosmos are supposed to be honored this way. How…?_ He reached out and cupped one of the blossoms. Sparks of something ran all through him, warm and chilling all at once. He sunk into that feeling, a myriad of long-forgotten sensations pricking his very being. Far too late to resist he noticed he was being drawn into the rose in his grasp.

He was helplessly pulled into the flower. For a moment all was black, then the world exploded into petals all around him. The petals swirled, at first slowly, then speeding up. One by one they shot into him, each stabbing with such force he was on his knees by the end.

On… his knees….

Dizzy from an increasingly familiar sensation –_I'm… hungry?_ he thought in stunned realization- he lowered his eyes to receive the shock of his afterlife. Or rather, life, as his legs appeared solid again.

Cloud rose shakily to his feet, observing that he appeared as his fourteen year old self.

This would take some getting used to.

It took awhile, but get used to it his new body he did. The biggest change was his diet; being essentially made of roses as he now was, he obtained his sustenance from the sun's rays and vegetation. After walking for about a year he didn't even think about it anymore.

It was after about two years that he found a weapon. An enormous sword was imbedded into an almost cliff-like hillside. It was nearly the same size as he was, but eventually he was able to pull it out. From that day on he devoted the evenings to practice. The strange thing that he noticed was that he was still travelling back in time. Apparently the Hills still weren't done with him.

Sephiroth was very on the ball. The others, distracted by the epiphany they had reached, hadn't noticed the tell-tale signs of their captive awakening. Only a quickly placed blade prevented a repeat of the earlier fight.

His lip curled. "Showing mercy, are we? Or is it pity?" he snarled.

"Just be glad you're alive," said Jecht, "We have a few questions to ask you."

"Like you could even comprehend the answers, low-brow." A gleam of devilish delight shone in his eye at the man's obvious anger.

"Do not insult my friends?" snapped Firion. He unconsciously leaned forward, as if to attack.

"Or what? You'll kill me?" The prince grit his teeth, knowing he was right. There was no 'or else' to say. "Really, what is _royalty_ like you doing defending this ignoble savage?"

"Aha!" cried Bartz, slamming a fist into his open hand, "Jealousy! You feel gypped!"

"'Gypped'? Just what-"

"Yeah, that would make sense." Jecht crossed his arms, nodding. "So he wants power."

"Maybe he wants family!" the other suggested.

Not seeing any end to their discussion –one that would come quickly anyway- Sephiroth talked over the duo. Helpfully they moved to the side to continue.

"Why don't you tell us your name?" he suggested, inching his sword closer to provide incentive.

"…Kuja."

"Kuja, why are you working for Mateus?" asked Cecil, approaching the bed and kneeling, "Was your mother… was she-"

"Why ask questions you already know the answer to?" he spat, clearly ashamed of the circumstances of his birth.

"Mateus will just use you. Like he used me." As he said this, Firion rubbed at the scars from where he had grasped the rose with his thumb.

For a moment he was silent. Then a soft, "I know" drifted from his lips.

"Then why-" Cecil found the rest of his question waved off.

"Everyone uses everyone else. There's no avoiding it, so why bother?" He fixed a piercing gaze on his uncle. "Now all of you will use any information you can get from me to win back your kingdom."

Firion opened his mouth to deny it, then found that he couldn't. "You don't have to tell us anything like that," he surprised them all by saying, "There's just one thing I want to know." He pulled out the letter he'd been tricked with. "You were the one who delivered this, right? Why not finish the job?"

"I did. How was I to know that the curse would be broken?"

"But then why did you go after Zidane and not me? You even could've waited for us all to get back on the ship and then sunk it!" He got progressively close as he said this, till he was half on the bed himself. "Please, just trust us!" he begged when it seemed he would get no reply.

"Why?" He laughed, a note of hysteria weaving in and out of it, "Look at him, tell me what it is you see." They did so, noticing nothing in particular. "Nothing? How unobservative. One does not merely take after one side of the family."

It was true; looking closely at the two, subtle things like facial structure and build made themselves apparent.

"So then did you leave home for the same reason Zidane did? A controlling father?" As he said this Firion was still looking back and forth, noting more similarities.

"You don't seem very surprised," he commented in what almost sounded like disappointment.

"We've gained a cousin in the past half hour. What difference does another make?" said Sephiroth indifferently, "A more pertinent question is what your plans are now. If you pledge yourself to our cause I shall let you go. However, if you continue to oppose us I'll cut you down right here."

"Sephiroth!" protested the two others.

"Is it true then? All of the rumors? This isn't the Sephiroth I know!" Cecil rose and placed a staying hand on his elbow.

Laughter rang out. "It's no wonder Mateus fears you. You're exactly the same!" The bitter sound rang again, him knocking away the sword still poised uncomfortably close. "I've lost interest in helping him. I suppose it would be in my best interest to see what the opposition has to offer before I swear you all off." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, adjusting his tail so that it would again be hidden. "Don't disappoint me now, _Cousin._" On that note he sauntered out the door.

Wait, we need to discuss this!" Firion dashed after him. Jecht and Bartz, having long since finished their discussion, had already gone in order to leave the family alone. All that was left of the bunch were Sephiroth, Cecil, and Zidane, who was still sleeping.

Cecil, seeing his chance to press for answers, said, "They say you've sunken a thousand ships… slaughtered innocents without mercy…."

"No one could sink that many ships… not in seven years."

"So why let a lie carry on?" His question was ignored, Sephiroth looking away. He persisted, "Surely you don't think we would reject you? Cousin, I've missed you all these years, and I know the others all feel the same!"

"It's better this way. When I try to help directly, someone gets hurt." He turned back to look his cousin in the eye. "I've killed exactly one innocent. _Never again._

"But if you rejoin us, you can atone for that death! Isn't that what they would want as well?" A hand reached over and grasped his. "They'll forgive you, as will we!"

"Heh. Funny you should say that. He was the spirit Zidane met in Mount Auron." Taking his hand back from the shock-slackened grip, he turned and walked to the window. A minute passed by as no one spoke; Sephiroth peering at the horizon, Cecil not sure what to say.

"I buried him in the Cosmic Hills," he mentioned suddenly. Cecil made no reply, simply listening. "It seemed… appropriate somehow. Though he never found the peace he deserved… for everything." Silence returned for a time, only broken by the occasional sound of their comrade's conversations.

"I tracked them all down." He was referring to the pirates, Cecil guessed. "Mateus has been behind even more than Firion suspects. Mother and Father dying… most of the family leaving on a quest… the attack on our ship… none of it's a coincidence."

"Are you saying that he did all of it? Killed Lady Cosmos, made Father disappear?" He paused halfway through a step towards the pirate.

"I don't know for sure how much he's done directly. But it all worked out a little too well for him, didn't it?" They were now facing each other. "Cecil. I meant what I said. Don't tell Firion what we discussed here."

He nodded reluctantly. "Very well. But in exchange you have to promise to patch things up with him… and the one you killed. I don't want to see my family suffer anymore." A short laugh called his attention sharply.

"You never change, do you, Cecil?" He chuckled again. "I suppose that's the least I can do." This seemed to end their discussion, Sephiroth making for the door. With one foot outside it he paused, and added, "You're not to tell Firion of this either, genome." Now he was gone, leaving the sputters of the eavesdropping genome in his wake.

"Good, you're awake. How much did you overhear?" asked Cecil, fetching a ready glass of water.

"Firion gets loud when he's excited," he admitted, "That guy… is he really…?"

"It would seem so." He helped the bedridden one to sit up.

"So, that makes you… my uncle? Step-uncle?" He shook his head, clearing it. "Are family relations always this complicated in Lighthaven?:

"They're actually a lot simpler than they used to be," laughed Cecil, "As of right now the only relationship between us that is clear is our bond as Warriors of the Cosmos. As your senior I felt it best that I teach you a thing or two on how to use your powers. I'm sure it's been difficult on your own."

"It would be nice to know what I can do," he hummed. Leaping out of bed, he stretched mightily and drank the water Cecil provided. Goal in mind, the two headed off for a training session.

Garland muttered curses under his breath. When his new leader told him of the possibility of a fight, he'd been mollified of the ridiculous nature of the venture. Now, battle at hand, he was forced to flee for the good of his men. All because of some clever brat with a chip on his shoulder.

Said brat had laid many a trap and ambush that one by one whittled down the ranks of the elites. When this was over, they'd need to go on a massive recruiting mission. _Jecht and his boy would just continue to bring trouble to our door. Maybe it's time to branch out to other continents,_ he thought, narrowly avoiding an energetic grenade from the Headache Squad.

The band of elites ran faster through the Enchanted Hills. _Such a persistent little runt._ The 'runt' was a small boy with a ridiculously plumed helmet and an even more ridiculous codename: Onion Knight. Unlike the guards and knights back in Lighthaven, he didn't possess any particular amount of strength. In fact, he and his band were quite weak. No, all of their success came from the decimating traps that had driven them from Lighthaven. Illusions of soldiers that exploded when something –such as a sword- passed through them. Poison darts in back alleys. It was a miracle any had gotten out alive.

And now they were on the run from a weak little band lead by a child. He snorted in disgust. Whoever had invented force fields… and hand grenades… and_ Onion Knights_ needed to die. Preferably by his hand. And be sent to the Vortex.

The current object of his hatred was laughing triumphantly. "All's going according to plan," he said to himself, "Just drive them all into the roses. If any survive, we can push them further to Mirage Marsh and let that territorial sorceress take care of them. What's her name again? Shantottie? This is definitely going to work."

And indeed, it seemed to would. The elites were chased into the rose field, those unarmored unfortunate enough to get pricked. It seemed victory was at hand for the Onion Knight.

Until something in the air seemed to waver, and all of them vanished.

"What?" A stab of fear pierced his heart. _They… disappeared? What if they're right behind us… or invisible? We can't win against these kinds of odds!_ "Everyone, we have to retreat!"

Back with Firion's group, they had gathered around a mysterious note that had appeared on Cecil's bedside table. It read:

_Golbez is in the lands beyond. Squall his gathered Tidus and another of Mateus' victims in the Cosmic Hills. They're heading to Lighthaven. A man named Garland is also waiting there for orders. Your father is trapped in the Vortex. Myself and Cloud and going to save him._

"This is Mother's handwriting," murmured Cecil, tracing his finger along the letters.

"Ultimecia's back? But where has she been all this time?" asked Firion.

Sephiroth tossed his head in dismissal. "I'm sure she'll be able to tell us when we meet up again. What's important now is making use of the information we've been given."

"That's a lot of ground to cover," commented Bartz. He tapped the lands beyond, the Cosmic Hills, and Lighthaven on a map. "Should we split up?"

"I'm going to the Cosmic Hills," announced Jecht, obviously thinking of his son, "Garland'll need another brigand to meet with. And I guess the little crybaby could use some help too." He quieted Zidane's snickers with a warning fist.

Recovering quickly, the genome suggested, "Why don't Bartz and I team up with Kuja and we'll go fetch Golbez? All three of us have a lot of experience sneaking around."

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline that challenge," said their newest ally, "Your operation would flow smoother without having to introduce the bastard child." This was said mockingly with a grand gesture. "Besides, if I don't stay close to Lighthaven I'll forever lose my chance to get even with Mateus to certain hotheads."

"Firion and Sephiroth should definitely go together," Cecil put in before either could object, "I should probably go with them as well. As much as I'd like to go after Golbez myself, I don't think I'd be able to stay hidden from the spirits."

"Firion needs to go to Lighthaven, so that means Sephiroth and Cecil would join him," Zidane summed up.

"Which just leaves Kuja and Jecht as the ones travelling alone." Bartz stared at the ex-assassin, a stare all the others soon joined in on.

He made a noise of disgust. "Oh, very well, I'll travel with the uncivilized clod." His expression became a smirk. "I suppose he needs someone to take him out for his walk and keep him out of trouble."

"You calling me a dog, pretty boy?" The short-tempered man took an aggressive stance.

"Save it, your guys," Zidane groaned in long suffering.

His half-brother shrugged, his amusement leading him not to protest. "Now all that's left to settle is how we're all planning to move. That_ One Winged Angel_ of yours is a nice little boat, but I still made my arrival on these shores first, even with your week long head start."

"So what will we do? We have to get to Lighthaven as soon as possible, or there's no telling what Mateus will do… or Squall," Firion brought up urgently.

Kuja seemed to calculate something. Finally he nodded. "I got here by flying. With the appropriate modifications to the spell I could lift all of you with me. It would only take about three days to reach Lighthaven's shore."

"In that case… Cosmic Hills!" he boomed, "If you can hear me over this distance, please keep Squall and his companions from arriving before us, lest they try taking on our enemies by themselves!" Naturally no indication came whether the request had been granted or not, and all they could do was hope.

"That's as best as we can do for now," concluded Bartz.

Cecil nodded grimly. "Either way, we gain nothing by remaining here. Time is of the essence; we must go!"


	4. Finale

It was funny how Mateus never got to keep his threats. Right in the middle of an important discussion Kefka had burst into his chambers, unannounced, to cheerfully inform him that the targets he'd pursued had escaped. Again. Mateus was not pleased. Still, with his contender for the throne gaining allies left and right, it was best to keep as many on his side as possible… for now. He could easily rid himself of them at a later date. Until then, however, there was work to be done.

"So then, the final ship has arrived, you say?"

"Yes, sir, and its cargo was brought to the usual place," reported the messenger.

"And the mercenaries?"

"Preparing for battle, just as you ordered." He ignored the distaste on the messenger's face. His enemies were few but strong; just one of them could shave off a sizable chunk of his current forces. Better to augment them with expendables.

"Good. Tell the mages to begin work on our 'ace'. I'll wipe those fools who would challenge me off the face of the earth!"

Cloud, having now wandered for years through the Hills, was glad to see the end in sight. His destination all this time had been a small pond nestled among them. But it was no ordinary pond. It was completely frozen over despite the warm Cosmosian sun. Even more strange was the figure frozen just below the surface.

He could only assume it was Ultimecia, the time sorceress.

He flipped his sword off of his back and contemplated how best to free her. He didn't want to risk injury, but in such a small pond…. Compromising, he held the sword aloft and filled it with the residual spirit energy accessible to his new body, then struck the ice a heavy blow. Blue energy shot off diagonally from the impact point, cutting through the ice. Many a crack appeared as well.

He used these cracks to pry the ice apart, sending it scattering across the surface. Painstaking hours went by, until her body was at last retrieved. He warmed her up as best he could and the beating sun took care of the rest.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed that his initial guess of her being attacked was true.

Ultimecia struck as soon as she awoke, casting a multitude of feather-like missiles at him. The Hills being on his side, however, none got through.

"Firion needs help!" he cried, not wanting to lose his body again so soon. This got her attention.

"Firion? Explain," she commanded. To her feet she arose and crossed her arms. "If I don't like what you have to say, you can be sure of an abrupt stop to your time."

One summation later….

"I see. That would explain why I found myself under that spell that slowly froze me. Excuse me for a moment." Her image flickered and she continued, "I have left what messages are necessary. Come, I'll need your help in retrieving my husband."

Unlike the Hills, where time flowed any which way they desired while still passing, Ultimecia's brand of magic completely halted it. From there one could move about as they wanted. She was also proficient in other magics –time being no constraint in learning- thus was able to summon a pair of large dark wings. Using these she hoisted them into the air.

As they flew, Cloud mused, "So you really can control time…."

"Wondering why I don't just go back and change everything?"

"A little," he confessed, "It just seems like all of our troubles could've been avoided is Mateus had never been around."

"Ah, but you never would have gotten your body back if that had been the case, now would you?" Surprised, he had to admit that point. "Time is a tricky thing, as you've seen. There's no predicting the consequences of directly taking a hand in one's fate. You might find when you return that all that's precious had been lost… or an enemy you never suspected you might have. Little messages are all I'm willing to risk."

"What did you lose?" He honestly wasn't expecting an answer, but it came anyway.

"I was inexperienced and foolish. There was a man I loved very much, and we were happily married despite his low status." For a few wing beats she said nothing more. Then, "There was only one mar on our relationship, a silly little thing, that we quarreled about frequently. In time we might've overcome it, but in time I could also erase it. I took the easy way out and rid myself of our troubles. The troubles responsible for the connection that formed between us."

"You never married," he stated, thinking of his own circumstances. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to seek out his old sweetheart after all that had happened. What was to say he would even find them available?

"I came back to my own wedding ceremony to Light, no one the wiser. My un-husband had developed quite the hostility for me, as I apparently had for him." Her sigh was fraught with bittersweet memories. "I've learned enough of a lesson from that. Better the evil we know." Both contemplative people by nature, this marked the end of their conversation. Not another word was spoken until they arrived at the edge of the Vortex.

Swirling in the exact center of their world, the resting place of the damned was an endless pit. Its dark depths were filled with the howling winds of a maelstrom that kept spirits from escaping. Above the center floated Void Castle, the dwelling place of Exdeath.

"We should consult Lord Exdeath first and foremost," she said, landing them in the courtyard, "With his cooperation, this rescue should go much… smoother."

"Him being in the Vortex…." The question didn't even need to be finished.

"Many a poor soul has taken a misstep. Some are even aided in their blunder," she said darkly. By this time they had reached a set of doors that seemed to lead to the entrance hall. At Ultimecia's approach they swung open, revealing the grim architecture within. The body apparently did not escape the fate of the spirit. In tortured poses they made up the inner walls, in some places still writhing in unceasing agony. Cloud balked, repulsed, but unwilling moved on when Ultimecia made no such pause.

As they walked, some small part of him drew him towards those walls. With each step the urge grew stronger, only clearing from his mind when a hand snatched his own away from the grotesque structure. Without even knowing it, he had drifted out of the straight line to the next set of doors. He wordlessly nodded his thanks to the accompanying royal.

"Why distance him from his fate?" droned a sultry voice, seemingly from nowhere. The hand still in his tensed then pulled away.

"I was wondering if you'd show," Ultimecia commented to thin air, "So what is it you're calling yourself these days?"

"What we call ourselves is no concern of yours." As this was said, a figure of a woman phased into being before them. Cloud quickly looked away from the immodest dress. "What is the washed-up sorceress doing here at this late hour?"

"Naturally I've come to see the master of this place. Why don't you step aside? It wouldn't do to be beaten by this washed-up sorceress." A strong hostility pulsed between the two women like something alive. Permitting himself to look, Cloud noticed that the newcomer had the Cosmosian silver. Meeting a blank in his mental search for answers, he assumed they were sometime in the distant past. Why else would there be a child of Cosmos there?

The unnamed woman, floating a ways off the ground, made a noise of contempt as she lifted her head. "Exdeath has no reason to grant any request you might bring, time witch. We will crush you where you stand if you remain persistent."

The tell-tale flicker, and Ultimecia was behind their opposer, who toppled forward onto the ground. "Don't get impertinent." The obstruction gone, she moved forward.

Cloud made to follow but instead threw himself and his blade in the way of a powerful spell from the felled enemy. She rose like a serpent lifting its head, and just as dangerous. All of a sudden they were forced into constant movement as beams of magic surged all around them. The only mode of prediction for their strikes was the orbs that they shot from.

In fact, it seemed almost like she was firing them at random. Thinking about it, he concluded it would make sense. It would be almost the only way to get a hit in, seeing as how Ultimecia could use her manipulation or time and space to avoid all of them. Not that her only move was that. She moved to a place without heavy fire and blasted off dozens of the same missiles she used on Cloud before. Soon the area was so full of magic that the one that had no such abilities of his own had to get out of range. No longer completely sure of which direction he'd come from, he slipped through the nearest door.

It was the wrong door.

"What is a false spirit doing in my territory?" a deep voice boomed from a set of aquamarine armor.

"I'm here to get back the brother of Lady Cosmos," he had no choice but to answer to what could only be Exdeath himself. An evil laugh filled the room.

"That explains why the time witch is fighting that little cloud of darkness that lurks in my hall. How will you make up the loss to me?" More laughing came forth at his confusion. "If I give you what you came for, I'll be short one spirit. Will you replace it with your own?"

"He was never supposed to go to you to begin with!" To even his own disbelief he found himself whipping out his sword. _Am I actually considering fighting the Lord of the Damned?_ Too late he remembered the nature of the place; so close to the realm of the dead one's emotions ran out of control. One would start to follow their heart's every whim. And he, feeling threatened by a ruler of spirits, was ready to fight.

"Ha, the dead are the dead. One day all will join me here. What does it matter if one hallowed spirit makes its way to me before its time?" A club-like sword appeared out of nowhere and spun into the grip of his left hand. "In fact, I believe I'll harvest one much overdue, whelp."

The sword shot straight towards him. He was able to get his own down just in the nick of time, slamming it into the ground. Concentrating, he dashed, blade extended, towards Exdeath, shimmering energy enfolding him.

Chortling, the being said, "The powers of a spirit will do nothing against their master." To prove this, arrows that appeared to be made of light were cast at the ex-spirit, sending him reeling into the doors. "You can feel it, can't you? It's calling you and you can't resist." Dark power welled up in the form of smoky tendrils all around him.

Cloud couldn't deny it was true. The part of him that still was a spirit longed to cast itself into the Vortex and fade into oblivion. _I have to… resist this. I'm tired of being jerked around!_ Even with that attitude it seemed hopeless. Then, out of nowhere, the image of sunny hills clothed in roses appeared in his mind. There was a radiant woman standing amongst them with her back turned. For an instant, her head slowly moved to give him a bright smile, then the vision disappeared entirely. But from it he felt a great strength well up.

_The Cosmic Hills. They brought me back and now they're lending me their power._ Blue wisps rose up all around him, almost as if he were a spirit again. Getting back into his battle stance, he glared at the being before him. _If I defeat him… will the one we came for be freed?_

The guffaws from the spirit lord ceased abruptly. "That power… so _she's_ involved." A note of hatred seeped into his voice. "So, do you play the role of harbinger or avatar in our little conflict?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Then the puppet doesn't even know," he rumbled, mirth returning, "It will make the most interesting addition to my collection!" A swirling black vortex was conjured beneath Cloud's feet, the mortal escaping its tug with only the greatest of difficulty.

"I'm not a puppet!" he snapped, racing down the length of the room to the armored one. Somehow just knowing what to do, he threw himself into the air and rained an inordinate amount of slashes down upon his opponent's head. The being stumbled back with a groan. He prepared to fight on but an interjection from Exdeath rid him of the need.

"For now I'll accept your request. The time of awakening is not yet close enough to risk a continuation of this meaningless battle," he intoned, "That hallowed spirit is yours to reclaim if you can!" Booming laughter echoed around a room that was now empty save for Cloud.

_What was… that all about?_ Concerned thoughts began what would be a long plague on his head._ Focus… I have to rescue that man. Ultimecia… I'd better find her. _Putting thought into action, he cautiously exited the chamber into one of the more bizarre scenes he'd witnessed in his time.

The 'cloud of darkness' was frozen, visage in a sneer, in a minefield of hovering bolts and her own beams. Ultimecia languidly was tapping each of these lightly, presumably so that they would be redirected at her relative when time was set back in motion. It was surprising either woman had room enough to stand –or float- with the limited space crowded as it was.

"Ultimecia!" he called to the sorceress. She jumped, obviously not expecting someone to have escaped her time field. "I've spoken with Exdeath-" –he wisely left out the part where he beat the lord of the dead into submission- "-and we've got his approval to go on with our mission."

"Oh? I suppose I was done here," she sighed regretfully, flicking one final missile, "Come, I can only hold the Vortex in a state of suspension. Only a spirit… or in this case, former spirit… can enter and have any chance of leaving." With that inspiring speech she led the way back to where they started. If she noticed the screams of agony as time restarted, she gave no indication.

For the latest in what had to be an unhealthy number of times, Cloud wondered about the mental stability of his current companion.

And that of the royal family in general.

And himself, for being able to relate to them.

"You think too much," said the object of said unflattering thoughts. This drew him from his reverie, revealing her to have stopped several paces back. He rejoined her, flushing in embarrassment, and peered into the tumultuous abyss he was to enter. "When I say the word, slip in –but don't go more than a few steps."

"Why? Aren't I supposed to look for him?" Her expression at least confirmed one thing he'd been curious about: not all children of Cosmos were above their high horse; some were seated directly upon it.

"Well, if you don't mind sacrificing knowledge of your way for my husband's return, feel free to go as far as you please. However, simply calling for him would undoubtedly work." So that was where Sephiroth had learned his mocking smirk.

"What name could I call him that he'd recognize?" he asked, ignoring her sardonicism in favor of completing the task as soon as possible.

"Before he left home, 'Warrior of Light' seemed to do the trick," she shrugged, "In any case, any spirit attempting to escape will be drawn to the opening. Light should respond as well." With a final stretch of power, a shuddering fissure ripped itself into a point just above the Vortex. "It's ready; now go!"

Go he did, diving into the dimensional crack with all speed. Inside the Vortex the wind was so strong he didn't think he could move a step even if he wanted to. With no time to lose he began his 'search'. The first few calls he made to the lost royal were snatched away, not to be heard. Or so he thought. What could only be called a stampede rushed him and freedom, though they recoiled upon sensing his aura. There was one exception: an armored man with a horned helmet… and silver hair. This spirit drifted resolutely towards him and together they surged back through their escape route.

After regaining their breath and footing, Light cast his eyes about. If he recognized his surroundings or even his wife, he didn't seem to care to make any interaction. Finally, after a pause that seemed to last forever, he spoke.

"I thank you for your aid in escaping that place. Tell me, where is it we now stand?" This he directed at Cloud, to the displeasure of the third party.

"Does it really matter?" she said impatiently, "There's no telling how much longer Lord Exdeath will tolerate our presence here. It would be unwise to remain so close to the realm of the dead."

Eyes widening, the escapee breathed, "Realm of the dead? Then… I-"

"There'll be time to answer all your questions later," interjected Cloud, anxious to get away from Exdeath's sphere of influence in case he changed his mind, "For now we should do what Ultimecia says." He was somewhat taken aback by the hard stare he received for that. It seemed that the witch had a way of amassing grudging, amnesiac husbands.

"…Very well. I shall follow you for now. But know this; if we reach safety and I gain no explanation, you will be as an enemy to me." Even Squall couldn't match the frozen steel of Light's eyes. A snort from the sorceress broke off the stare-down, only for another to begin between the couple.

"Shall we then?" she said after a moment, wings forming behind her. Light looked as if that was the last thing he wanted but an enraged scream Cloud recognized as that 'cloud of darkness' convinced him to take the leap of faith. The last thing he saw of Void Castle was her furious and yet strangely heartbroken expression.

"So does this chocobo just always know where you are or something?" yelled Zidane over the thunderous footsteps of the large bird that had been waiting for them when they landed. Its carefree owner shot an answering grin over his shoulder and, laughing, urged it faster with a handful of greens.

"He's my pride and joy! I can go anywhere on this guy!" he declared with a pat to its shoulder. It squawked in what sounded like approval and doubled its efforts. All around the scenery whizzed by, Zidane only being able to tell where they were when they stopped for the night.

And so in just over a week's time they were staring down the border between their own lands and the one beyond. Wispy ashen grass lay despondently over grey silt in contrast to the vibrant green of the Enchanted Hills they stood in. The land was shapeless from wind, the same wind that kept the sky blurry with dirt. A rose that grew directly on the line was brown and dry on the side that was rooted into the land of the dead.

"I'd almost rather die in hatred if this is the alternative," Zidane half-joked, watching as a breeze shifted the land some more. In doing so it drew attention to the difficulties involved in their search.

"Looks like we won't be able to follow our footsteps back, either," noted Bartz, "I guess all we can do is wander aimlessly until we find what we're looking for." He peered around the dusty skies as if to find their target so soon.

Turning to him, the genome said, "Think you can handle it?" A goading grin crept onto his face to meet its answer on his friend's.

"Hey, it's my specialty!" He jabbed his chest with a pointed thumb. Both laughed, though they realized their stalling would soon have to come to an end. Indeed, it ground to an awkward halt immediately after their chuckles died down. They turned back to their desolate destination.

"So… we ready for this?" Giving away his nervousness was a twitching tail, not that Bartz could blame him.

"Well, gotta take the first step," he said, half to himself. And so he did, feeling a tingling as he stepped into the lands beyond. "Hey, look! I'm not dead!" he called back to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, and Zidane joined him in the forbidden territory.

"So, the lands beyond…. They're a pretty big place. How are we gonna find this Golbez guy anyway? It's not like we can just go looking for him. We'd be here for all eternity!" The two thought about it for a time.

"I know!" exclaimed Bartz, "Cecil taught you about your powers, right? So you'll be able to use those!" His excitement died down a bit when Zidane shook his head.

"I don't know, a lot of the abilities you gain as a Warrior of the Cosmos have really specific uses." Nonetheless he considered it. "I guess if I did something flashy he might see it. But then, so would the spirits. Plus, it's really tiring…."

"It's not like we have any other ideas. Might as well take a chance. If spirits do come I can just grab you and run!" He smiled encouragingly at his reluctant companion, who finally nodded.

"I guess that's all we can do. Well, here goes!" Power burst forth from him, changing his form to one covered with pink fur. He leapt into the air and began slashing through the dust to form the letters of the missing brother's name. Bright light as well as sparkles that seemed to be the stars themselves made the name linger for what would be hours after Zidane changed back. When he did he was panting heavily from the effort.

Bartz helped him to the nearest lump of ground before uttering the one thing he'd hoped wouldn't come up. "So… pink fur?"

"Don't ask me," he muttered, mortified.

"Hey, it's nothing to be embarrassed about or anything! There's nothing _wrong_ with pink-"

"Not helping, Bartz." He dropped his head into his hands.

Not one to be rebuked, the man commented, "Think about it, at least you're not Squall! Can't you just imagine him going to use the Cosmos Warrior's greatest power and all that fur of his turning pink?"

"Y-yeah, I guess you're right," he laughed shakily. _Except that_ I'm_ the only one who turns pink. Cecil _glows_ and apparently Squall channels his into his weapon. _Deciding to _never ever_ tell him that, he changed the subject, "How long do you think it'll take to find Golbez? I mean, what if he saw it but takes so long getting here that we've moved?"

"We could try waiting a day and sending up another signal a little further along," suggested Bartz.

And so for the next few days they did just that. More often than not, however, they had to dodge inquisitive spirits that came to investigate. It was these frequent encounters that showed yet another difference between these spirits and the ones on Mt. Auron. Spirits like Cloud, though loaded down with baggage, could interact well enough with their surroundings and took note of what occurred around them. These spirits, however, didn't seem to notice the wasteland they dwelt in. In one instance of fleeing they were chased by a spirit hovering above the ground, pumping its arms as if paddling a boat.

On the fifth day, it was Bartz who noticed a crackling of energy in the distance. Zidane sent out an answering sparkle and they were on their way. The spirits, now attracted by two signals, flocked angrily to the area in numbers that even the skillful duo had trouble avoiding. Apparently the same could be said of the one who was presumably Golbez. Each time his signal appeared it was a distance away from the previous location. Despite this it was clearly brighter with each appearance. They were getting close.

When they did reach him there were spirits hot on his heels. Bartz whistled for his attention, the three then making tracks back to their own land. Just barely did they manage to hurtle over the border at the head of a teeming army of spirits, only then being able to talk.

"That a Warrior of the Cosmos has come after me means that the time for my return has come," affirmed Cecil's brother, the only one that wasn't winded from their flight, "Has father been found?"

"No… well, yes, I guess… probably," sighed Zidane, weary at having to tell the story again, "Ultimecia left a note saying she found him but… it doesn't look easy."

"A lot's happened since you disappeared," Bartz piped up, "To make a long story short, Mateus has taken over Lighthaven."

"What? If that is the case, then what has become of Firion and Sephiroth?" A particularly loud shriek from across the border reminded them of the reason for their hurry in the first place. "Let us speak as we travel." They agreed and in no time were back on the chocobo, catching Golbez up as he floated alongside it.

"I see. I must thank you both for looking after my cousin, as well as sparing my nephew."

"Wait, you don't seem that surprised. Unless… you knew about him?" asked Bartz, turning a wide-eyed stare onto him.

"I met with my sister during her term. Though she claimed to me upon her return that the child was stillborn, I rather suspected it might be a lie," he explained. Even hidden by his armor it was apparent that he felt guilty. "I searched fruitlessly for the child, as one might for a needle in a haystack. In time, there was naught I could do but give up the search." He didn't seem to believe those last words, but the listeners, familiar already with the Cosmos family drama, decided to leave the pep talks for a later date. Well, mostly.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to hear it," said Zidane, hoping he was right for both their sakes, "He seems like a pretty lonely guy, and none of the others even knew he existed beforehand." He gave a nervous smile. "It would do him good to have a closer relationship with someone."

"If that is the case, I shall provide him with that bond, should he seek it." With the mood thus dampened, their way continued with minimal talking.

That night, Zidane couldn't sleep. So much had happened so fast -hard to believe that just two months ago he was plotting how to steal the crystals!- that he couldn't relax for the thoughts in his head.

_As long as I can't sleep, I might as well take over watch for Bartz, _he thought, stumbling out of the blanket he was using as a bed. Trotting over to the small sheltered fire, he plopped down next to his friend. "Hey, Bartz," he said tiredly, tossing a small handful of sticks onto the fire.

"Can't sleep, huh?" he commented sympathetically.

"Yeah. So much has been going on lately, you know?" He leaned over his knees and stared into the flames. "Anyway, I don't think I'll be getting any rest tonight, so you might as well go to bed."

"Nah, I think I'll stay up a little longer." A companionable silence stretched between them, Bartz fiddling with one of the chocobo's feathers and Zidane drawing in the dirt with his boot. "Hey, Zidane?" The thief looked up with an acknowledging hum. "What do you plan on doing when all this is over?"

"Haven't really thought about it." Tilting his head back he stared thoughtfully into the heavens. "I got into this conflict to save Tidus, and then I befriended Firion. When this is all over…," he mused. A star directly above him seemed to twinkle encouragingly, which he took as a sign. "I was thinking that maybe I'd see if Kuja wants to travel around with me. It'd be a good opportunity to get to know him, and it's not like either of us really have anywhere to go." He nodded to himself in resolve, then rolled his head to the side. "What about you?"

"Ha, that's easy! I'll just go back to wandering myself! We haven't seen this whole world yet, after all!" Casting a fond look upon his sleeping chocobo, he laughed happily.

"Not going back to piracy?" This time the laughter was directed at him.

"Nah, I've been a pirate long enough. I'm ready to try a new job; I think I've got this one mastered!" Zidane watched in amusement as his friend jumped to his feet and struck a fighting pose. "There're plenty of things no one has ever seen, and I plan to find them all!"

"Well in that case, how about we make it a race?" suggested Zidane, the competitive gleam of a brigand etching itself into his eyes, "We can come up with a list of places and then when we reach them, we'll leave a sign that we've been there."

"Hey, great idea!" the other chirped, "Hm, let's see… they would have to be things that there's no mistaking." Looking around, a splash of yellow caught his eye. He triumphantly raised a shed chocobo feather. "This'll be my sign! And as for you…."

"I'll leave these," he said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out coins that had been repeatedly nicked. "So all that's left are the locations… for starters, how about Mt. Auron? Even Cloud never explored it fully!"

"Yeah, same goes for Mirage Marsh! Most people are scared to go there. Not that I blame them; I've heard there's a really scary sorceress there…."

"Isn't there some kind of unreachable monument in a land across the sea? What was it, a lighthouse?"

"I kinda wanna see what comes after the lands beyond!"

And so their planning continued until the next morning, when Golbez shook them awake from where they dropped off on each others' shoulders. Both laughed it off in consternation, unknowing of the smile hidden beneath armor. That day passed considerably more lightly than the last, and they found Golbez to be a source of great advice from his experience. With each morning came a new letter with updates on the others' progress, from which they planned their rendezvous.

Zidane finished reading the latest letter and smirked. "Mateus won't even know what hit him!"

"What it is this time?" Tidus howled irritably.

"It's not danger, I can tell you that much," was Squall's response.

"The Cosmic Hills must have some kind of purpose for us. That's why they took Mister Cloud away, isn't it?" Their newest addition peered around the strangely high hill peeks that had formed a couple days ago. The slopes were nearly vertical, serving well to keep them imprisoned. "Cosmic Hills, we need to get to Lighthaven straightaway! The future of this land may depend on it!"

"Time's passing normally," Squall observed, squinting at the sun, "I'd say we're waiting for something."

_Wouldn't it just be easier to send us to the time we need to be in? There must be something more._ His eyes flicked over to the complaining elite. _This one just doesn't let up. I'm surprised the Hills haven't dumped him in the Brigands' Desert by now._

"Ugh, I can't take this anymore!" yelled Tidus out of the blue, pulling his hair. He then cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Let us out right now!"

_How will being louder make a difference?_ he snarled mentally.

"I'm serious!" the other was still saying, "If you don't let us out, I'm gonna start running and not stop until you do!" True to his word, he took off with a wild cry. He disappeared over the top of the nearest hill-

-and came charging over another back to where he started.

_You're wasting your time._ Squall watched as the youth didn't even slow, repeatedly returning until his two companions had lost count of his tries. Until his breath was ragged. Until his movements were blocky and slow. And still he went on.

"Tidus, I don't think the Hills are going to be convinced," Terra said gently as he staggered by yet again.

"Yes… they will… if they don't want… to lose a strong fighter!" Wearily he dragged his body back up the hill. "Y'hear me? Not… stopping until…." He breached the top and they turned their attention to where he appeared.

Or where he _should've_ appeared.

"Tidus?" she called, looking nervously at an equally surprised Squall, "You don't think he…?"

"Let's go," he grunted, sprinting off to where they last saw him. There, of course, was Lighthaven, with Tidus stumbling over to the spot where he and Jecht had met again on his visit. He was out like a light.

The adults exchanged a look and settled down next to him.

The next day, when all three were refreshed, they put in action the plan that they'd had in mind since the night Terra joined them. There were hitches, such as a commotion in the palace square they had to avoid, but soon they were in position: Terra hovering outside the barracks, Tidus in a nearby square, and Squall in the servants' quarters to sneak into the castle. He reflected light off his gunblade, and Terra, receiving the signal began her spell.

_With this, _she thought as the power welled up inside of her, _all of those who support the true ruler will fall asleep, leaving only those who have joined with Mateus!_ It wasn't long before she could hear the thumping of people landing on the floor. She smiled and focused on maintaining the spell.

Tidus took his cue from there, smashing crates and yelling like a madman. The distraction worked, drawing a chunk of soldiers away from whatever was happening at the gates to investigate.

"Ahahaha!" he laughed evilly, glad he'd spent so much time practicing when he first became Thief King. He was rather impressed with the effect himself, no matter what teasing Zidane had given him for it. "I am the _Lord of all Brigands!_ Now I shall… uh… _take over this city!_ Yeah, and steal all your money! And children! And… uh…," he trailed off. The soldiers not only didn't look impressed, most of them were leaving. "Ah, screw it. _Yahhhh!"_ he screamed, rushing at them with crazy slashes of his sword.

Squall rolled his eyes from where he was hiding. _He makes the perfect distraction alright._ It was working better than they'd hoped. More and more soldiers were breaking off to see what the ruckus was and not a soul remained awake to stop him in the palace. He moved then, quickly so as to reach his destination before protection could be put in place.

Hallway after hallway flashed by, him surprising and cutting down the occasional guard. There –the rooms of the court sorcerer. He was about to burst in when he heard a voice he was not expecting. And it was grunting in pain.

"Done dreaming?" sneered the rooms' owner. This was followed up by a crack and another cry of pain from-

"Firion!" he snarled, breaking down the door.

"And I told you, if you don't keep your punk mouth shut, Mateus will have one less rebel to worry about," Jecht growled at the mage floating above him.

"You can't take out what your brutish hands can't get a hold of," he taunted right back, leisurely flitting about to prove his point.

"You're not going to fit in with normal society at all, are you? You know, when all this is over you're gonna need to learn how to mingle without offending everyone in the room." Squinting up at him, he tried once more to figure out how best to reach him.

"Like you of all people should be lecturing about giving offense." He flipped his hair with a haughty sniff. "I don't need the advice of an ignoramus whose only purpose is to be the dumb muscle."

_Why'd they send this brat along with me anyway?_ Fortunately, Kuja seemed to have taken his silence as a victory and threw no more insults. _Finally. Does this kid ever shut up? Now if he puts his magic where his mouth is…. _Not paying attention to where he was going, he smacked right into said kid. "Hey, what's the big-"

"Hush!" Sounding unusually serious, he grasped the larger man by the armpits and propelled them backwards. "Now look up carefully," he instructed quietly. Jecht could immediately see why; a patrol was passing by. "That boy, the one dressed as a knight. He's leading troops to Lighthaven, it would seem." They watched as he marched proudly in that direction with a small band of soldiers in tow. Seeing his lips move, they leaned in closer.

"-I'm telling you, this plan is perfect! Those brigand lunkheads won't know what hit the!" he chattered loudly to an equally boisterous soldier, "They're coming back to Lighthaven eventually, and when they do we'll be ready for them! Just think, we'll use those special landmines –the ones infused with magic- and plant them all over the city. Since they'll only go off when the ones you designate as your enemies step near them, we'll always be prepared for another brigand attack! It's foolproof!" he bragged. Details of setting up were discussed as they gradually moved out of hearing range.

Once they were gone, Kuja broke the silence with a smug "Well now!"

"Did he just… tell us his whole plan?" Jecht scratched his head in bewilderment.

"It would appear so. Rejoice, Jecht, that dumb muscle of yours will soon see use." Though he mocked, he himself was visibly anticipating the upcoming destruction. "Come, let us find these elites of yours. I'd hate to leave our little friend waiting, especially after he was so considerate as to give us this invitation." Jecht had never seen a more sadistic and self-satisfied smirk in his life.

"And this is one of the good guys," he muttered under his breath, "Hey, Kuja, go easy on the bloodbath. Firion'll have your head if innocent citizens get the ax."

"Bloodbath? How could you suspect I'm even capable of such a thing?" he asked in false innocence.

"I'm not gonna win this one, am I?" the brigand groaned.

"So even one such as yourself can learn." His sly, goading smile failed to warn the hothead from making a reply.

"Why you little…!" he growled, attempting to punch the other out of the air. Each missed –or rather, was lazily dodged by the sassy genome. They were so caught up in their little feud that they didn't even hearing the heavy clink of approaching armor.

"If this little… dispute is settled, we have work to do," rumbled Garland, having been led right to them by their noisy squabbling, "I've waited long enough to rejoin the fight."

"Oh, that will come in due time, never you fear," answered Kuja, feeling vindictive at having been snuck up on in his moment of gloating, "You barbarians will get to tear into each other soon enough. With any luck you'll rid us all of your pitiful egos." With that he spitefully whizzed off, snarling some excuse about seeing the elites' numbers for himself.

"He doesn't like being shown up," said Jecht by way of explanation, "More importantly, we overheard some brat talking about some traps he's gonna set up."

"Ah, I know exactly who it is you speak of. The boy himself is a weakling. All of his ability to fight lies in his tricks. Were something unfortunate to happen to them…." Garland let the other choose his own end to that statement.

"You know, these Hills have a little quirk to them…." In that moment his face seemed as vicious as the title of 'Brigand King' would suggest. Both set off after Kuja, a plan finally in mind.

And so when the Onion Knight arrived, arms loaded ridiculously high with boxes, they were waiting. Air dilled suddenly with a multitude of explosions caused him to drop all of them with a cry. Under the cover of Kuja's attacks, brigands and elites sprang forth into action.

"It's an ambush! Everyone, fall back!" the boy yelled above the ruckus. The attackers would have none of that, however, taking advantage of the small company's refusal to use their deadlier weapons in a public setting. He was forced to bring them to a headlong break for safety.

Naturally the brigands were all for pursuing them, but it was not to be. All of Mateus' forces –knight, soldier, and brigand- rushed from various gates to join the fight. Now with too many to cast his spells without fear of hitting his compatriots, Kuja decided that then was as good a time as any to seek out the man responsible for it all.

He flew around to the window of the room he knew he'd find Mateus in. "That wretched task of yours is complete. The prince is dead," he bluffed, grateful now for a time he'd spent in theater to get close to a previous target, "Now do I get a real mission or are you going to have me waste my skills on the rabble below?" Wondering at the lack of answer, he drifted it. The room was empty.

Frowning, he moved further in, thinking to find a clue to the missing sorcerer's location. What he got was a cacophony of mirth and the unmistakable sound of windows and doors slamming and locking. He turned slightly to his left to see the culprit: a clown with a freakishly wide grin.

"Where is the Emperor? I have important business with him," he sneered as arrogantly as he could (a task lacking in anything remotely close to difficulty.) _If I can keep up the illusion of being one of Mateus' pawns, I'll be led right to him… as humiliating as this is._ A storm of giggling broke his concentration, creating a desperate fight to keep his irritation from showing beyond what was reasonable for someone in his position.

"So I finally get to see Mateus' little chimp," the clown chortled, "Or should I say his chump?"

"And I see I found his fool." The insult only gave rise to more uncalled for hilarity. He made a disgusted sound and turned his attention back to the room. _Clearly this one will be of no use. I suppose my only option right now is to search elsewhere. _He took a step forward. _Perhaps the throne room-_

Here he cut himself off to fling himself, just in time, out of the way of a giant block of ice. Still he was hit with an unexpected ricochet as it shattered beside him. Clutching bleeding knuckles with his other hand, he fixed a glare at the jester –no, mage- in the room with him.

"What a look that is!" he cried with relish, "That's the look of someone ready to _destroy_." He retracted a waggling finger from Kuja's face to save it from being seared off. "Temper, temper, you rude baboon! I wonder, do you _hate hate hate_ me? I bet you do, I bet you do!" His entire body was thrown back in laughter. In but an instant though he was uncomfortably close to the genome's face. "How about I send you to Mt. Auron right now?" This threat was said in a dissonantly deeper tone.

Kuja reared back and summoned his orbs. "Just what do you think you're doing? We're on the same side, clod!"

"Same side? You're trying to make me laugh, aren't you?"

_Make you laugh? As if you need the help,_ he snorted in his thoughts as the man before him proceeded to do just that.

"You –ha!- think I actually support Mateus in his stupid games? I'm just here to have some fun! And there's nothing more fun than destroying his schemes." Shards of glass appeared around Kuja as he spoke, and only a well-timed ring of his own magic saved his skin.

"You've had your final laugh, harlequin!" The manifestations of his power weaved through the air towards his spitefully snickering opponent. All the while he had to swerve through a storm of spells, many of which homed in on him.

It was one such spell, a series of flares, that struck him as he tried to cast one of wider range. His back slammed into the wall, the clown closing in quickly with a strange wing-like attack. He closed his eyes in apparent defeat, luring his enemy into a false sense of security. It worked like a charm. With an admittedly unnecessary flick of his wrist, his explosions had the other man smashing into the ceiling.

When he began to fall, it wasn't towards the ground but to a massive glowing sphere.

Kuja had to admit the clown had a point about the joys of destruction as he stalked through billowing clouds of dust that arose from the trashed surroundings. He took a moment longer to mourn his jacket, ruined as it was by the blood knocked out of his foe. Then he sent a string of orbs to where the other lay recovering his breath. Annoyingly, he was forced to cancel this move to dodge a counterattack of lightning.

The clown burst out of the rubble with more insane laughter. "Yes, yes! Destroy, destroy, destroydestroydestroy! This is what makes life worth living!" Even gurgling this through a mouthful of his own blood, which poured from his lips as he spoke, he seemed to enjoy the fight more than ever. "So much destruction… how titillating!" Spells were cast with no thought as to their target's location, the sheer multitude of which forcing the ex-assassin back.

"Cease your efforts, this struggling is futile! Only I shall remain at the conclusion of this scene!" To prove his point he dived down behind the man and conjured shimmering globes that converged upon him and exploded. Such was the force that he was sent into the wall with impact enough to crack it.

And still continued laughing.

"Look at the beautiful mayhem we've wreaked on this room!" He ran his fingers along a ruined bench as if playing the piano. Suddenly he grew very still, which somehow left Kuja even more nerve-shot than when he was moving. Before long he began shaking, then, bending backwards further than his audience had known spines could withstand, cackled full force.

Kuja had had enough of the uncanny person before him. He threw everything in his arsenal at him, if only to remove this unnatural being from his sight. But with an agility that belied his injuries, the other mage bounced out of all his spells. Just when it seemed they would begin their battle in earnest again, the clown gave pause and leered.

"It was about time you showed your face again, my pretty." He waved mockingly at his opponent. "Sorry to rush out in the middle of a death match, but I just sensed a good ol' friend of mine! Ta-ta!" And just like that he teleported away.

The one remaining couldn't remember a single time he'd been so happy to see an opponent leave. Deeming the escapee injured enough not to require his hand further to beat, he started what he hoped to be a brief search for Mateus.

In the pre-dawn hours of that day, Zidane; Bartz; and Golbez were sneaking around the lower passages of the palace. Clad in the uniforms of guards that they had "borrowed" from the barracks, the three easily fooled what few of the genuine articles they'd encountered, though Golbez got a few strange looks for wearing a helmet. However, as they moved deeper into the bowels, they were stopped more frequently and with more suspicion.

"Something's down here alright," Zidane muttered as they just barely convinced another group they were authorized to be there.

"So, some kind of magic amplifier, huh?" commented Bartz, for once serious, "That'd explain why sometimes the ships we'd targeted would be too well-protected to attack. Whatever the components are to this thing, Mateus was taking no risks with their safety!"

A shout from another set of guards cut the genome off before he could reply. "This area is restricted by order of Mateus! Only personnel bearing his seal are allowed!"

"Huh, really? He sent us down to, uh, see any progress that… might've… happened…," Bartz trailed off awkwardly, "…He's already down here, isn't he?" He got his confirmation when a spear was pointed at his neck. Rearing back, he sent a quick glance at the other two and sighed, "So… Plan B?"

"I don't think we came up with one," mused Zidane.

"So you are imposters!" The other four guards joined the first in aiming their weapons.

"That's about the gist of it," he replied cockily, drawing his blades with a flourish, "Question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

"If I may interrupt, we can't afford to have any alerted to our position." The guards seemed to recognize Golbez's voice and paled, one even dropping his ax and stumbling back to get reinforcements. He was soon halted by a dark fog welling up from under his feet. The remaining guards stared in terror at their fallen companion and, forgetting even to alert any that might be in the area, leapt in for the attack.

One minute later, the fallen bodies of their foes deposited as safely as possible in an out of the way corner, they continued on their way, now with the addition of the seals that would act as passes. These turned out to be flat chips of semi-precious stone with an intricate magic circle stamped upon it. While distrustful of new faces, later guards accepted these and let them pass without any trouble. Finally they reached a dead end.

"Ultimecia's note said to go down to the deepest area of the castle, right? Well, here we are," Bartz said as he gestured to the blank wall before them.

"I recall Mateus asking Lady Cosmos for permission to build an underground study with which to practice his art, once," mentioned Golbez, extending a hand to place his palm against it, "She denied his request, but hindsight reveals that he spent a great deal of time in the lower levels after that."

"So, a hidden door? You can just leave that to me," boasted the resident thief, going to work immediately. He closely examined all mars in the surface of the area, joined shortly after by Bartz. Together they scoped the whole passage with Golbez standing guard to keep away unwanted guests. Soon enough the mage heard a telltale click, arriving back just in time to see the wall clear silently away.

Progress now unhindered, they proceeded through the new archway into a wide chamber filled with Mateus' most loyal. In the center was an elaborate crystalline structure that positively glowed with power. Next to it stood the mastermind himself, running a finger along its ridges. With the sudden increase in draft he looked up, face contorting in rage as he recognized the three who entered.

"I see we have an infestation," he drawled, "My friends, glory is within our grasp but for those you see that have infiltrated this place. Now has come the time to do your duty and rid us of them, forever securing our place here. Go, and kill them all!" As if sharing a single mind, his miniature army turned as one and raised their weapons. Not one seemed to possess any fear.

"No holding back now!" Zidane warned, ditching the armor that was weighing him down.

"This is for real," his friend agreed. His stance changed to ready himself for the summoning of weapons.

"Zidane, as the quickest among us, you should focus your efforts on destroying that amplifier. We'll hold his men off you as best we can." Having said this, the third member of their little group called forth a laser that cut a path through the crowd.

All hell broke loose.

Bartz was forced back by the wave of bodies, his only escape to leap into the air and rip through it with a blast of light. This only knocked down the few it hit, and he barely twisted out of the way of a retaliating crossbow bolt. In response he threw down an orb of light, swooping along its trail to deliver a series of strikes. Golbez followed this up with a ring of electricized rocks that plowed through enemy lines. They formed a pattern, the former sending soldiers reeling with his light attack and the latter blasting them willy-nilly with his lasers. Whenever one got too close to either one, they sucked them into a spinning wind attack and summoned the rock ring respectively.

The two-man army did well to keep Mateus' soldiers off Zidane's tail; however, not all could be thus occupied. A group converged upon him, forcing him up off the ground. From there he spun, blades extended, and came back down with a crashing blow atop their heads. He swung himself over the heads of the rest and used their shoulders as stepping stones to the platform of the amplifier. About to jump onto it, Mateus finally took matters into his own hands.

An emblem appeared in the air before him and shot out a number of energy bolts. He tumbled back into the waiting arms of a mercenary and was restrained to await his fate. Bartz and Golbez, bogged down by a tide of the strangely resilient troops, didn't even see his predicament. But someone else had.

Before sorcerer or mercenary could make another move, sword-shaped beams of light skewered the mercenary and were only barely blocked by Mateus.

"Can't you even die properly?" the usurper snapped at someone outside of Zidane's range of vision. Said genome, wriggling out of the death grip the corpse had around him, turned to see who had helped him. And smirked.

_Looks like Cloud and Ultimecia succeeded,_ he thought, taking in the silver hair and intricate costuming. It had to be none other than Golbez and Cecil's father, the amnesiac royal who answered only to 'Warrior of Light'. _He's definitely a Warrior of the Cosmos… a strong one too. I think Cecil said it was… Cosmos who made him one?_

"I know not if what I've been told is true," declared Light, holding aloft his sword, "but it is all too clear that you are indeed the villain I've been told of. Prepare to face the light of judgment!" The strange shifting feeling he had come to recognize as a Warrior calling upon the power of the stars was felt down to the core of Zidane's being. Light's armor transformed in response to his increase in strength, taking on a red color scheme. Suddenly Mateus had his hands quite full.

"Bartz! Golbez!" he called, "Looks like it's all-out!" The two heard and pumped out even stronger attacks. He himself activated his own transformation and was soon zipping around the room, striking soldiers and amplifier as he came near them.

_All of us are caught in different times, but we're still fighting as one! None of us are alone!_

Cecil, Firion, and Sephiroth peered over the simple note Ultimecia had left for them sometime during the night. "According to this, the others are already in the city," said Firion with a frown, "We'd better get a move on and do our part."

"We'll most likely be separated when we enter the city," stated his cousin, clearly up to something.

"Most likely."

"Here, I want you to have this," he said, slipping a long object covered in cloth from his back. Eagerly unwrapping the package, the prince finally got an answer as to what Cecil had been lugging around all this time. It was a lance and a pair of small daggers. "Those are from Zidane," he was told, the daggers being indicated as the gift, "He didn't get a chance to give them to you himself. I… mentioned how you have trouble fighting without all of your weapons at hand."

His heart swelled in happiness. "You guys… what did I ever do without you?"

"What you'll have to do soon if we don't hurry." At Sephiroth's words he again became somber and nodded. They then made their way through the remainder of the Hills between them and Lighthaven.

The city was filled with insanity. All around citizens had dropped where they stood, sleeping, in proof of their loyalty. Following an increasingly sparse trail of the slumbering forms, the trio found the tumultuous palace square. Everywhere there were bodies, but these differed in that red was a prominent color around them. Garland, already at his limit from fighting nonstop as a one-man army since early that morning, was caught up in a battle with a small youth who pranced away from his every strike. Jecht was tiredly taking on several traitorous, a difficult task even if his strength hadn't been worn down by the onslaught. And then there was the unmistakable sound of Tidus yelling some distance away.

"Separated indeed," murmured Sephiroth, noiselessly joining Jecht against men he himself had trained.

"I'll check on Tidus," Cecil volunteered, "Mother mentioned he was acting all on his own."

"Right. I'll move on to find Mateus then." Wishing each other luck, both dashed off to make their contribution to their effort.

Stopping only to complete his weapons collection with a hand ax and a staff, Firion darted through the palace halls. He was frequently halted in his progress by guards keeping a high-alert patrol or reinforcements rushing to back up those in the square. Creeping around a corner, he spotted the men standing guard over Mateus' door before they could see him. A quick throw of his ax took care of one, two others likewise falling to the knives Zidane had given him. Of the three left, two unsheathed their swords and stalked closer, the third firing a shot from his bow. He whipped out his own sword and cut through the arrow before it could reach him. That was when the other two struck, having drifted to either side of him.

Five years spent in the tower hadn't noticeably diminished his skills. Both were knocked further and further into the air by a series of strikes and slashes. The archer tried for another shot but Firion's own arm was faster and more accurate with a bow. Now reassured of his prowess, he boldly swung open the door to the sorcerer's room.

The sight he beheld upon doing so was a thoroughly trashed suite. Overturned sofas, seared and shattered walls, and in the center of it all, Mateus stood facing the window. Though doubtlessly he had heard the commotion in the hall and the clinking of weapons now, he made no move to flee or even turn.

"I have to wonder what you said to that one, to make him join an effort so doomed from the start. He always was a weak-minded fool," he said presently. He swung to face the irate prince, who choked on his breath at the sight now revealed. Kuja, battered and unconscious, hung suspended by Mateus' magic. "I suppose I don't need to tell you what happens now."

"You monster!" growled Firion, his body shifting aggressively but not moving forward.

"Careful now," he cautioned, a cruel smile adorning his face, "I would hate to have to squish this insect so soon."

Teeth grinding painfully into one another, the infuriated prince demanded, "What are you going to do to him?"

"Ah, now that is the question, isn't it?" Mateus traced the vein in Kuja's throat with the tip of his staff. "Not only has he failed me twice, the second time he joined with my enemies. I have no further use for him." With a little pressure slightly to the side, the skin broke and a single drop of blood oozed out. It dripped to the floor with a soft plop.

"No!" At his cousin's pain, he took half a step without thinking.

"No? You wish to see the one who attempted to murder you saved? Now why would that be?" The staff drifted back to the vein in warning not to move again.

"You locked me away, pulled the wool over my people's eyes! You've hurt countless people in your quest for power!" The other did nothing to deny it; rather he smirked as if pleased by such an accusation. "I don't want to see another of my family experience the same pain I did!"

Mateus leaned back his head and chuckled, "Five years, and you still haven't figured it all out?"

"What are you talking about?" The hostage's continued slumber caught his attention. "No… what have you done to Kuja?"

"Oh, not him," he said in dismissal, "You think too simply, Firion. It must run in the family." Seeing that his words hadn't clicked, he clarified in thinly veiled glee, "I never would have been able to take control as I have if not for a few… 'coincidences'."

Firion felt his heart stop as the pieces began to fit themselves together. Cosmos. Chaos. Sephiroth. Light. Ultimecia. Cecil. Golbez. Kuja. And… himself.

"I see you finally understand," he gloated, "I began with Lady Cosmos, adding traces of poison to her meals in such a manner it would appear that she died of illness. Lord Chaos followed soon enough of his own accord."

"I've heard enough!"

"And then there was you your uncle, to whom the crown would rightfully fall. All it took was a simple spell to suppress his memories."

"_I've heard enough!_"

"Only one remained by your side then: Sephiroth, the clever one. I would never have been able to fool him for long. But you solved that little problem for me, didn't you? It's incredible just how much you continued to take the word of your enemy over that of your own brother." As he spoke, Firion shook in anger. "Now the only task left is to tie up the loose ends." With that, the doors and windows slammed shut, locking.

Turning back from his startled survey, the victim of the sorcerer's machinations snarled, "Try as you might, things won't end like this! We all have been dreaming of a better world! One where we can be free of people like you! A world-" Here he struggled for words.

_The world I've been dreaming of… the one I've longed to return to throughout all of this! Where we can look over the Cosmic Hills and know that their power will never have to be used like this again!_

"A world of… wild roses!"

"That's all? I had thought our imprisoned prince could come up with something more creative," laughed the usurper, "A dream like that isn't even worth the breath it's spoken on!" Without warning, a magic crest appeared and peppered him with small blasts. He collided with an already cratered wall. "Done dreaming?" Electricity clawed at him from the floor, his head hitting that same wall as he arched his back in agony.

Neither one could've predicted the door flying off its hinges at just that moment and pinning Mateus to the ground.

"Firion!" cried Squall, immediately making his was to his charge.

"Never mind me, get Kuja out of here!" he commanded. His guardian followed his gaze to the man who had since tumbled to the ground. In typical Squall fashion he saved his questions for later and threw him over his shoulder.

"So, you plan on doing this alone?" His piercing eyes wouldn't be denied their answer.

Firion dipped his head in admittance. "This is my fight. I have to make up for all the trouble I've caused everyone by letting him do as he pleased."

While not pleased with his decision, the gunblader respected it. His final words to the prince were spoken as he climbed back out the way he came. "Watch yourself. It's no accident he gained so much power."

"…I know." He waited until they were alone to again raise his sword against his enemy. "That's why it'll be no accident when he loses it."

"Do you honestly believe you can win?" The man had finally freed himself of the heavy door and stood ready to fight. "You would be better off bowing to me. My power has done naught but grow these years you've been absent."

"If you're so powerful, then why are you still trying to convince me not to fight?" Firion received a glare. It was the first time Mateus' mask has slipped to show the doubts underneath, no doubt because of the mutual understanding between them. There would be no running from this battle for either of them now.

Terra's concentration, so vital to keeping the spell active, was broken. With a cry of pain she grasped the smoldering flesh of her side, knowing all too well the laugh that followed the direct hit.

"Kefka!" she cried, "So it's true!"

He floated up to her level, a sick grin in place. "Now what's a little powerhouse like you doing here in the backlines?" he asked, ignoring her accusation, "You should be at the head of this battle, decimating the enemy troops with your raw power!"

"That's not what my power is for!" she argued, nevertheless preparing to fight her master.

"That's not what your body's saying!" He cast an ice spell to illustrate his point. Having trained with him for much of her life, she was able to dodge it in its entirety, though she knew that this wasn't enough.

_If they wake up, a lot of innocent people could get slaughtered! I have to fight. I'll protect everyone!_ She fired off a large ball of liquid flame that picked up speed and tracked Kefka's jerky progress across the air.

"Now that's more like it!" A series of slow-moving flares shot towards her, strength building as they went. Deflecting them with a magic barrier, Terra retaliated with her own missiles of light. This back and forth continued, both mages extensively familiar with their opponent's moves.

It was the mentor who struck the first blow, catching her during an evasive maneuver with a trail of lightning. From there he swooped in and kicked her into a wall. Before she could recover he used his ice attack again, this time hitting with every strike.

"Get away!" she yelled, a ring of her own ice magic spinning around her. She managed to knock him back and followed it up with a summoning of tornados around her. These swept him up and, battering his already half-mangled form, dropped him hard onto the ground.

_I can win this!_ she thought exultantly. End in sight, she moved in to strike the final blow.

Only to fly directly into protruding spines resembling wings.

Clutching at her injuries she leapt back and cast the light orbs at him again. Each was blocked. That was when he did what she'd hoped he wouldn't: released his full power.

During the long life granted to those who followed the path of a mage Kefka had learned many things. He displayed one of them now, shapeshifting into a hideous demon. Her wounds slowed her down just enough to be hit with prisms of conjured glass.

"You should've just stayed with me, missy!" he snarled, looming over where she lay collapsed, "It's okay though; Papa Kefka is very forgiving. He'll just fix you back up." She tried to edge away as he began a spell she now recognized to invoke mind control, only to have his boot crush her into the ground.

And for the second time this spell was interrupted.

A streak of blue fire snot down from above, smashing into the mage and hurling him a great way's off. Terra looked up to see a blond man with a sword almost bigger than he was. If not for the spirit energy ebbing away, she might've assumed the resemblance to Cloud a coincidence.

The now older –and solid! – Cloud paused just long enough to hand her a potion. Then, sword in hand, charged their enemy. Kefka had somewhat healed with his transformation but still didn't like his odds.

"Hm, he who fights and runs away-" he said in a sing-song manner, disappearing just before the blade could reach him, "-lives to destroy another day!" Raucous cackles filled the air, dying down only as a recovered Terra stood by her rescuer.

"You were protecting the Havendwellers, right?" he asked.

"Yeah…." Dozens of questions beat at her lips to be let out but she decided to save them for a better time. "I'd better get back to casting. Thank you for jumping in like that."

"…No problem." Though no more words were exchanged as she got back to her self-appointed duty, he made it quite clear that there would be no more interruptions.

"That's… the trouble with this form…," Zidane panted as he collapsed next to Bartz, "Too tiring to use. This Warrior of the Cosmos thing… s'not all it's cracked up to be." Besides him his friend groaned, though whether it was in pain or agreement he couldn't be sure. All around them lay their defeated foes, but still more came. "Just how many men… are working for this guy?"

Golbez and Light were faring no better. He had taken a number of blows protecting his father's back, the poor quality of the borrowed armor making itself known. Now kneeling on a single knee, he fought as best he could in the tired state they were all in. As for his father, even one used enough to the power of the stars as to use it several times in a row must eventually fall. He now struggled to keep a couple of approaching soldiers at bay.

Mateus watched this all with chill satisfaction, more than confident in his success. He sat midair as if on a throne and patiently awaited the annihilation of the thorns the rose had sunk into his side. So focused was he on the show that he didn't notice another creep in. Until, that is, he heard a voice from behind.

"How rude of you to hide down here when you have a guest, _Emperor_," mocked Kuja, encircling his target with his orbs, "I've had to look all over for you. Your vassals were most unhelpful." To the minions still remaining, who could be no more than thirty, he called, "The Emperor demands that you drop your weapons if you want him to live!"

At first all he got were gapes, even from his allies. Soon enough though there was a great clatter as weapons fell to the floor.

"Very good, you are well-trained dogs, aren't you? Now lock yourselves in the nearest room. If you have any luck it will be Prince Firion who deals with you and not myself." They grudgingly complied, shooting glares that only made the condescending man's mood improve.

"Switching sides so late in the game? A fool's move like that shows how well-matched you are with the other insects," Mateus sneered, planning to catch his old cohort off guard.

"The only insect here is you, Mateus!" he snapped back, "I tire of your presence, charlatan!"

"Look out!" Zidane warned too late, the sorcerer having jabbed his staff into the stomach of his distracted captor. Kuja stumbled back with a hiss, clutching the tender area. He threw himself into the air to avoid mine-like things that had been summoned around his feet. There he hovered as he regained his bearings.

"You gentlemen should really be on the move!" he called to the four he'd rescued, "I am more than capable of taking care of this one, and it's not as if you'll be of any use in the state you're in." In no position to argue, they fled as quickly as their tired bodies would allow them. "Just you and me now, is it?" he directed towards the other that remained.

"You'll regret facing me alone. Traitors have no place in my kingdom." A crest formed and sent its missiles fruitlessly into the air, their target easily dodging them. The genome smirked arrogantly as he twisted out of the way at his own leisure.

"This is the man who would take over a kingdom? It seems hardly worth the effort to take out so pitiful an opponent," he crowed, almost lazily arcing his orbs down to converge and explode upon said man, "That one will have an easy time indeed in restoring his throne."

"Found a new master?" was the taunt he got in reply, "Or is it that among that rabble you're indistinguishable from a thoroughbred?" None too pleased by the comparison he raised his arms as if conducting. From them came an array of spheres that the one who would call himself 'emperor' was only able to make an ungainly escape from.

Their battle began in earnest, each throwing as much of their arsenal as would be wise so deep underground around. Only glancing blows could be struck to either at first.

"How will you live after our little prince no longer has use for you? He'll cast you aside without a second thought." Mateus carefully got started on a seemingly random placement of traps, in actuality setting up for the other's demise. All the while he kept him distracted with carefully chosen taunts sure to get to him. "No ruler benefits from being associated with an assassin. You will be set adrift in a world that wishes your defeat."

Kuja fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. He was unknowingly led right along the sorcerer's intended path, all the while sneering, "You think I'm doing this for his sake? Don't make me _laugh._ My plan was always to make you my final target!" Spotting an opportunity to get a hit in, he was caught by the one who had appeared to have dropped his guard. He swooped in for the kill with rapidly revolving orbs, and thus didn't notice the earthen claws extending from the floor until they already held him in an inescapable grip. This was charged with electricity that attacked him until he dropped, unconscious. The victor approached and used his magic to lift the traitor into the air.

"You still live? I suppose then that I can make use of you yet."

It was a situation, to say the least. Having lost all of his back-up, the Onion Knight was alone against the traitor prince and his two thugs. Worst of all, thanks to the troupe double-timing it back to Lighthaven and this drawn-out battle, he was getting tired.

_There's no way I can beat any of these guys, alone or together,_ he thought as calmly and rationally as he could_, For now I can avoid them, but I need to think of something fast. Maybe if I…._ Nimbly dodging a blade that appeared out of nowhere on a chain, he formulated a plan that could possibly work. Well… once anyway. _The real problem comes after I've taken one out of the equation. I guess this is all I can do for now._

He scanned each of his attackers, deciding that Sephiroth was the one he needed to worry about the most. The ex-prince was watching him for any sudden moves. _He's the one that knows how to think. I'll have to see if I can use my plan on him._ Going into a panic that was only half-faked, he rushed at him in the blink of an eye. This seemed to throw off the man's calculations enough for him to get in close. Thunderous footsteps from behind showed that his plan was working so far.

Sephiroth was not one to be taken lightly however. Soon, much sooner than he'd intended, the man was arcing his infamous sword through the air. He had no choice but to duck and dance back out of range, only narrowly avoiding one of the other two as they charged into the fray. Still, it wasn't a complete loss. As long as he could keep his opponents this close to each other they wouldn't be able to effectively fight with their large, ungainly weapons. He could win if only he could control their range.

In fact, winning was even starting to look like an option, since not a one noticed what he was doing to them!

Finally his chance came again. Garland had managed to get some breathing space and this gave the other two room as well. He lunged at the now defenseless boy-

-who danced back to lure a similar attack from Sephiroth. This he got and barely managed to avoid at the price of his left shoulder. Garland wasn't so lucky, his attack having brought him in too close to the long swinging blade and left him without anything to defend himself with. A little friendly fire from the swordsman –helped along by boy's own efforts- was enough to take him down, thanks to his own injuries and fatigue. The swords were of the right slimness to make it past his armor and bring about a gushing of blood.

Jecht's fist got the boy and hurled him quite the distance back. But it was too late; Sephiroth had pierced his abdomen and the Onion Knight had inflicted wounds on the chest and neck. The brigand's enemy-turned-comrade had mere seconds to live.

With his task complete, the boy braced himself for the inevitable retribution. After the attack he'd been hit with, both his strength and nerve failed him, not to mention rendering him immobile from pain.

_Looks like… I failed you, Regent._ Here came Sephiroth, his steel glinting evilly in the sun. Then, the strangest thing happened. A light brushing against his mind seemed to whisper _'hush, hush'_. The longer it went on, the less his eyes would stay open. The last thing he saw was a blond teen and another Son of Cosmos restraining his would-be killer. Then, a deep, dark slumber.

The prince rolled out of the way of an incoming attack and threw an electrified knife at the man who had betrayed him. This was it; one of them wouldn't make it out of this room alive, and the way they fought proved it.

Mateus was done holding back. Done with princes and brigands and assassins getting in his way. Done with his pitiful opposition slipping through the fingers of his incompetent subordinates. He swung his staff to be pointing at Firion and charged it with power. From it came a beam that hit him dead-on in the chest and rocked him back on his heels, affording the sorcerer an opportunity to catch him in a circle of lightning. His foe helpless in his grasp, he smugly waited for the spell to end before conjuring a massive globe of blue fire. A moment later, though, he frowned.

"For how much longer do you intend to run amok?" he snapped at the singed, but otherwise unharmed man. Without replying the prince smashed the second fireball in a way that reflected it back after its caster.

Firion took advantage of this distraction and hurled his ax, spinning, to catch and drag the usurper right through it. Then, leaving no time for recovery, he twirled his lance around and around, hitting the other several time.

The last swipe knocked him away, and he used the momentum to dodge another round with the ax. With a wave of his staff he constructed a magic crest that shot bolts of light towards the prince. Even though these were easily avoided, it gave him a chance to drop some mines. Sure enough, as Firion went to evade another series of bolts, he inadvertently stepped right onto them. He was thrown up into the air and landed in another lightning field.

As he shuddered in pain from the inescapable trap, Mateus began to charge up his ultimate spell, one that was sure to finish off his opponent for good.

Said opponent, catching his breath after the torture he'd now been repeatedly put through, recognized at once what was happening. Without even thinking he was charging again with an animalistic growl rumbling from his throat. The snickering sorcerer was caught off guard; he had been so close to completing his spell he stopped paying attention. Too late did he notice the hot-blooded man upon him with a sword.

Firion swung with all his strength, knocking the staff to the floor hard enough that the spherical crystal on the end shattered against the stone. In an uncharacteristically vindictive gesture he used his comparatively limited magic skills to use the sorcerer's own strength –electricity- against him. Only the man's writhing snapped him back to his senses and morals. Mateus had to die, that much was certain. But to do the deed in so cruel a fashion seemed just the kind of thing he himself would do. Instead Firion called together all his weapons one last time and sent them slamming into his enemy, the impact of which sent small shockwaves rippling through the room.

Eyes widening, bizarre noises of pain flooding from his mouth, Mateus' back stiffened into an arch and, slowly, sagged to the ground. For a moment he couldn't seem to speak and Firion merely watched and panted. Finally he gasped out, "This… isn't over. I will not be defeated by mere-" He broke off, choking, until death stilled his hacking throat.

The Haven dwellers, once informed of the regent's trickery, were still at their frenzied celebrations a week after victory was achieved. It was unclear to those involved in the effort whether the people were angrier at having been fooled or overjoyed at the return of their rulers, what with dances and parties interwoven with effigy burnings and what were dangerously close to mob scenes at Mateus' grave. In any case, it was some time before any were able to slip away to hold a celebration of their own. Rather than cheer the death of their enemy, the family decided to instead be happy that they were all together once more.

They were joined by the boy known as 'Onion Knight' (a name grudgingly accepted by the youth after no one seemed to realize that he had another), who continued to offer his services in order to atone for having served on the wrong side. Those close to Garland, as both Jecht and Tidus had become over their separate times working with him, were less willing to forgive him for his part in the elite's death. The temperamental duo only stayed for a short time, however, and all too quickly returned to their old positions, given back by an uninterested Zidane. Though they made no promises, they hinted that the Kingdom of Lighthaven wouldn't have to keep an eye on either them or its own enemies for any longer.

Cloud and Terra were next to leave, neither feeling comfortable staying any longer in the storm of praise they were receiving from the citizens. Terra promised to visit once the excitement died down a little, but first she wished to return home to settle all her affairs just in case a joke about her becoming the new Court Sorcerer wasn't such a joke after all. Cloud on the other hand snuck out while everyone's attention was on her, leaving only a short note in his wake. He explained in it that he would be in Mooglesburg to keep close watch over the Vortex, the words Exdeath had spoken in their encounter troubling him. That staying would mean confronting Sephiroth, whom he had skillfully avoided over the entire course of the festivities, was left unspoken but understood.

It was the day after Bartz pulled a Cloud and disappeared without a word that Zidane knew it was time for him to move on as well. There was only one last order of business to take care of in Lighthaven….

"A… race, you say? And you want me along?" Kuja asked with a confused frown, "It sounds utterly ridiculous."

"Well, it's not like you wanted to stay here," his half-brother was quick to point out, "Weren't you saying you planned on leaving anyway? Why not come along for the ride? Did you have somewhere else you wanted to go?" He didn't even bother hiding his grin of triumph, to Kuja's irritation. There were few places the ex-assassin could go where he wouldn't now be recognized as the one who killed so many in Mateus' name, reformed or not. Even with the protection of his new-found family there was sure to be strain put on all sides, and he was tired of dealing with rulers anyway.

With a mock groan he sighed, "Oh, very well. I suppose leaving the two of you on your own would be inviting doom to the world as a whole anyway, and then I'd have my _dear_ cousins demanding an explanation from _me._" This banter, awkward but a sign of bonds already deepening, continued on in a whisper as they slunk away in the manner only those raised in the shadows can manage. One did notice them, soft brown eyes gleaming in approval for an instant, then turning back to the rest of his family.

Finally, everything could go back to as it once was.

"A fool of a sorcerer. You turned all against you and then couldn't even follow through with your threats," laughed Exdeath, right in the face of the most amusing addition to his collection he'd had in awhile.

Mateus waited for him to finish with a patience he'd never shown in life. When the Lord of the Damned was done with his guffaws, the fallen sorcerer replied silkily, "Ah, but I am so much more than that. This is but a setback, _Lord_ Exdeath, one that I intend to take the greatest advantage of."

Exdeath had never seen a more devilish smile. But then, he only had himself to blame for what followed.

After all, damned souls never were known to learn well the lessons of their death.


	5. Author's Note

Thanks to everyone who read this, especially those who reviewed, and apologies that this final chapter took so long. What with junior year craziness, a summer job babysitting kid whose attention span is rather on the lacking side, and the dreaded writer's block on that final fight scene (seriously, how many ways can you write "he made lightning stuff and it went boom"?), it took a lot longer than I intended. It was actually meant to be done in time for the release of 012 as homage to Dissidia, hence the lines snagged directly from scenes. I didn't make it 'cause that would mean rushing those last few scenes even more than I already was, which would just be a jerk move on my part. But, here it is! Now with fifty percent more sequel hook!

This AN is really just here to address stuff that didn't manage to work its way into chapters but would still probably be on the helpful side when reading. But before that I'd also like to apologize for the format: it's… not exactly reader-friendly, I realize. That's because not only did I not intend to even write it (it just kinda happened, as plot bunnies are wont to do), I wrote it as a solid piece to try to break myself of the habit of abruptly ending chapters when I wasn't sure how to continue a scene. It was when chapter one hit the fourteen page mark… at twelve-point font… single spaced… that I decided that wouldn't work at all. So apologies for the super long chapters that… still end abruptly. Ouch.

Well, without further ado, miscellaneous info!

**How the Whole 'Kefka Taught the Other Mages' Thing Works:**

In this lovely little AU world, learning magic extends your lifespan, though how much it extends depends on how much you devote yourself to it. For example, Bartz: his knowledge of magic is almost solely devoted to summoning weapons at will as well as mimicking others. His lifespan is only slightly longer than the average Joe's. Kefka on the other hand has mastered his own particular style of magic and thus is enjoying a significantly lengthened prime. Most would-be mages don't have the time/means/patience to gain total mastery and thus don't gain superhuman lifespans.

**The Cast's Ages:**

Zidane: 16

Firion: 22

Jecht: 38

Garland: 40

Tidus: 17

Cloud: 14 -} 21

Sephiroth: 27

Mateus: 26

Squall: 32

Onion Knight: 9

Bartz: 25

Kuja: 21

Kefka: 84

Terra: 36

Cecil: 25

Ultimecia: ?

Cloud of Darkness: 37

Exdeath: Old as the Universe

Warrior of Light: 56

Golbez: 31

**Cosmic Hills vs Ultimecia: Time Magic**

Ultimecia only halts and restarts time normally. She does have limited powers to move through future and past if she's willing to expend the energy, but must return to the present. She will always return to the moment she left, only it will have changed if she was fiddling with the past.

The Cosmic Hills don't ever actually halt time, rather they manipulate the flow. They can be in any time they want and send whatever is inside them to any time as well, in most cases permanently.


End file.
